


Playing Happy Families

by Meek



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hormonal Teenagers, Multi, Step-siblings, Zutara, but especially Zuko, everyone is awkward, like holy fuck, the gaang being teenage idiots, you won't even believe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meek/pseuds/Meek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ursa and Hakoda are trying to find love second time around.<br/>Their respective offspring are just trying.<br/>A Zutara modern au.<br/>(Rating subject to change)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't painfully obvious, this is my first fic and I'm in desperate need of a beta - if anyone is available it would be much appreciated.

 

_Something was off_

Was the thought Katara awoke with. Although her dream clouded brain couldn’t piece together the _why_ Katara just knew. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she rolled over to check her phone – 11:45, wow Katara, way to make the most of your Saturday, a text from Suki about some party next week and a missed call from Gran-Gran (probably accidental), nothing unusual there then.

Shaking off the unexplained feeling of uneasiness as she slipped out of bed (what was the point in dwelling on something there was no obvious solution for?) Breakfast seemed like a good idea, sugary carbohydrates usually were. Setting her limbs into motion and sloping downstairs from her room to the kitchen with a practised ease, Katara almost didn’t notice the prickle of uneasiness return to her – that strange sense of foreboding that usually preceded the unknown.

She _almost_ didn’t notice it.

Very much in the same way she _almost_ missed the woman sitting at the breakfast bar.

The very demure woman, eating a slice of toast with a level of decorum and grace that Katara regarded as barely possible – especially for someone sitting in a strangers’ kitchen, wearing Hakoda’s shirt and seemingly nothing else...

 

* * *

 

 

_Something was wrong_

Zuko snapped awake – a glance at his alarm clock read 5:30 am, and there were footsteps tracking past his bedroom door.

Something was undoubtedly wrong.

Mom’s shift at the shop would have ended between 11:30 – 11:45 pm, accounting for the time it took her to get home, his falling asleep before he got there (12:15 approx.) and her midday shift the following day, it was highly unlikely that his mother was up at this time (and impossible that his lazy uncle would be) Even in disregard to the odd timing, the footsteps were unfamiliar, too heavy for Ursa and too careful for Iroh.

This was a guy.

And he sounded _big_.

The bathroom door clicked shut.

What the Hell was going on crossed his mind briefly, but Zuko was too busy steeling himself; there was someone in the apartment, a _stranger,_ and Zuko had a duty to protect his family.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as he knew how, Zuko headed out into the hallway and towards the bathroom, riled up for confrontation, only to start slightly at the tell tale creaking of the water-pipes and the sound of rushing water.

What was this guy’s game?

Who the Hell broke into people’s apartments in the middle of the night to use the bathroom?

Had Zuko followed that though to its completion, then what happened next could have been avoided, but he didn’t.

Throwing all of his weight into his left shoulder, Zuko prepared to slam into the bathroom door, only for it to open. Half-stumbling into the hard chest of the intruder (the mostly naked intruder?), Zuko managed to right himself and examine his opponent. Although it may have seemed like he was temporarily dumbstruck - he was definitely examining his opponent. Zuko took a moment to congratulate his initial assessment, the guy was big. Not as tall as he’d expected, but broad, solid.

Had Zuko been paying mind to anything but his build, he would have noted Hakoda’s confused expression slowly turning into one of nervous amusement. However he was too busy arranging himself into an attacking stance.

“Who the Hell are you?!”

If anything Hakoda’s amusement only increased, but his poorly smothered chortle was not what a sleep deprived and perpetually agitated teenager wanted to hear. Snarling slightly, Zuko righted his stance a little attempting to appear more aggressive, and whilst this didn’t seem to intimidate his opponent, it did spur him into action. Tentatively reaching out to Zuko’s shoulder, Hakoda tried to sound as placating as possible –

“Look, son...”

Something he did was the wrong thing to have done, because with an immediacy that seemed to shock both of them, Zuko grabbed his wrist before it had the chance to complete the comforting gesture. Using the leverage of Hakoda’s reach to turn him round, Zuko pinned the man’s arm to the small of his back, bodily slamming him into the wall, in a shadow of the move he attempted on the bathroom door earlier.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!!!”

Hakoda was schooling his free arm to remain at his side, his fingers twitching slightly. The kid was just confused, it was understandable, but this hold _hurt_ and his resolve not to retaliate was only so strong.

“Son, look - ” He attempted again, but that was as far as he got.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT! ANSWER ME! WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?!!!”  

Suddenly the hallway was illuminated, Zuko’s head span round, and Hakoda strained to do the same. A very unimpressed Ursa leant against her bedroom door frame.

“Zuko – let go of Hakoda.”

“Mo - ”

Then Zuko took a moment to process his mother’s statement. Then he evaluated this new information in addition to the scenario that had led him out into the hallway in the first place. His face crumpled in something between fury and embarrassment. Releasing Hakoda like his skin was suddenly scalding hot, Zuko proceeded to stomp unceremoniously back to his room, too humiliated to look at either his mother or her... whatever! A horrendous blush that must have been a shade somewhere in the burgundy family spread hotly across his face; Zuko slammed his bedroom door behind him, and collapsed face first onto the bedspread. The initial adrenaline we had woken with had worn off and now he was just exhausted with everything

 

* * *

 

 

Of course Sokka took to _Ursa_ straight away.

Katara knew she’d lost him the instant that hussy presented them with brunch on Sunday. Sokka’s loyalties and his stomach were intrinsically linked. And so what if Katara had often used this to her advantage? _Her_ doing this was different. Manipulative hag.

Now with no one to keep a united front with, Katara was trying to maintain a cool and detached demeanour, think of the glacier – _be the glacier_. Her coldness was , however, often punctuated with juvenile and bitter outbursts – mostly out of the earshot of the happy couple (Sokka, Suki and Aang were all soundboards) However they had not completely escaped Hakoda’s notice.

“Katara.”

“Hmm ?”

Hakoda was wearing his best disapproving Dad face. But she would not yield. She was the ice Queen.

“Ursa’s only here for a couple more days, you could at least attempt to be civil.”

“Hmmm...”

Iceflow. Picture the cold, embody it.

“Your brother was the one I was worried about – honestly I expected more from you Katara.”

He said it all in one big sighing breath, like the idea exhausted him.

Polar Winds.

“I wouldn’t have invited Ursa to visit if I wasn’t serious about this.”

The sigh. Again.

“Imagine how uncomfortable it is for her – being in a houseful of strangers...”

His voice had softened just a little.

Glacier. Glacier. **Glacier**.

“Kiddo...”

“...It’s not like I’m trying to replace your Mom.”

Shit. That did it.

“How – How can you even _say_ that?!”

It would have sounded a lot better if her voice wasn’t so squeaky and uneven.

“How can you even talk about them in the same sentence like that?!”

Was she crying?

“And then- then you have the audacity to say you _aren’t_ comparing them!”

Yep. She was crying.

Deep breaths Katara, she couldn’t get her point across if she was blubbering through it.

“I mean, why should I care anyway, right? I’m just your stupid kid!”

Good. She sounded more level now.

“Now you just have another excuse for never being home - ”

Hakoda winced.

“Now you’ve got a floozy on the other side of the country you can just forget about your life over here – ”

“Katara.”

“Well there’s nothing keeping you here! You can just go off and write over all of your memories of Mom with that stupid, obviously Fire Nation, _tramp_ – ”

“KATARA THAT IS ENOUGH!”

Hakoda had grabbed both her shoulders, demanding she keep eye contact with him. The shock of being yelled at by her Dad had cut Katara’s words off, but that only made the tears come easier. Sobbing and choking on her sobs, Katara tried to recover her rant a little, but all she could manage was garbled whines.

“Ursa isn’t going to replace your mom. She’s not trying to. She’s her own person, a person I think you’d really like, if you just gave her a chance.”

Katara felt her resolve slip away, being replaced with the beginnings of unpleasant regret.

Nodding, since speaking was apparently out of the question, Katara felt Hakoda wrap his arms around her, whispering vaguely soothing things into her hair.

A chance. That was all she’s promised .

Of course by the fourth day of Ursa’s visit Katara had warmed to her considerably, making the concession that anyone who would voluntarily humour Sokka’s “humour” couldn’t be that bad.

 

* * *

 

 

 When Zuko finally decided to try leaving his room (1 hour and 40 minutes after he had heard the heavy, non-Iroh footsteps leave and 5 minutes before his Mom’s shift was supposed to start) The fact that Ursa hadn’t left the apartment yet could only work in his favour; she would be leaving in some kind of hurry, meaning she would **see** him, but they wouldn’t have time to have a “talk”. Resultantly, when she came home that night, Ursa may not even want to talk with him, _or_ , more likely, any talk they did have wouldn’t carry the same weight, because he was there this morning, he said goodbye to her, he was civil – the words “sulking” and “hiding” could not be used as ammunition.

Yes. This plan was foolproof.

Iroh and Ursa were sitting at the kitchen table, deep in conspiratorial conversation.

Shit.

Attempting retreat was his best option.

The Dragon of the West was not about to allow his nephew this small mercy though, of course he wasn’t.

“Zuko! Come sit and have some tea –

This is an awfully late start for you, is it not?

Although I imagine threatening one’s mother’s suitors can really take it out of a young man!”

Iroh laughed jovially at himself, Ursa joined in briefly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yes, Zuko, sit.”

That sounded forboding. Zuko swallowed. He only had one card left to play.

“You- you’ll be late for work Mom!”

Ursa smiled a demure little smile.

“It’s the second Saturday of the month, dear.”

Double Shit.

“I’m all yours; we can talk all day if we have to.”

Zuko balked. He was trapped, and with his Mom, his Uncle and the elephant in room, it was getting pretty cramped.

“Look, I’m sorry I threatened your... bo- lov- whatever! I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.

But, just, maybe give me some warning or something.

I mean – I mean how am I supposed to react to a strange guy wandering around the apartment at 5 in the morning?!”

Zuko hadn’t meant to shout. Really. It just seemed to be in built as part of his intonation, an involuntary volume increase.

“His name is Hakoda. He’s – ”

 “Stop – Mom – Just, just do what you want”

“Zuko...”

“It’s – It’s uncomfortable! Can’t we, I don’t know - “Don’t ask, Don’t tell?” – I really don’t want to – ”

“ **Zuko** , listen to your mother”

Iroh’s subtle firmness stopped his tirade, and Zuko resignedly sat down in the chair he had been pacing next to.

“Just, OK, spare me any details, OK?”

“Alright”

Ursa’s warmth seemed to return a little, smiling more genuinely she reached across to squeeze Zuko’s shoulder firmly.

“His name is Hakoda Kuruk, merchant navy, two kids.”

“Ages?”

“A son about your age, a daughter a couple of years younger. Sokka and Katara.”

“Water Tribe names.”

“He is Water Tribe, originally, the family lives in Ba Sing Se.

He visits Omashu for the crystal trade here.

He’s a regular at the shop”

“Divorced?”

“Widowed.”

“Hm.”

“I like him and I’m going to see him again.”

“OK”

Zuko filed away all of the new information, but it was really of little consequence. Even if his mother continued to see Hakoda, formerly of the Water Tribe, he doubted that it would really affect him in any monumental way, if at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens here, but it gets us where we need to go!  
> A little short, but in planning the next chapter and the one after I feel like they will make up for it.

“I’m going to visit Hakoda’s family next month”

Hm.

“Oh – they’re beautiful kids Iroh, especially Katara, Zuko come and look at my photos”

Hm.

“Oh, Hi Katara honey, yeah, that’s fine, OK-”

Hm.

“I took one of Katara’s shirts again – I swear your laundry sorting skills...

No, no, I’ll mail it back over, it seems quicker, OK – OK”

Hmm.

Zuko was having to revaluate his initial assessment of the situation.

He did not like to have to do this.

Hakoda in of himself was fine, Zuko would even admit to a burgeoning respect for the man.

He was concise, orderly and considerate.

And, his presence was limited to their brief encounters over breakfast or dinner, when being occupied with the primary task of eating kept the conversation light and generic.

His children, however.

Despite never being physically present, Sokka and Katara seemed to pop up in Zuko’s everyday life with an alarming frequency.

The pair of them cast enormous shadows.

Zuko didn’t like it.

Because he already had siblings. Sibling. That he never saw, he really wasn’t in the market for two more.

But this, unfortunately, was what Iroh and Ursa seemed to be nudging him towards; their enthusiasm as boundless as it was irritating.

And then when Hakoda joined in, Zuko knew he was in trouble.

What had happened to solid, concise Hakoda?

This involved, doting Dad side of the guy should have stayed in Ba Sing Se with his family, where Zuko didn’t have to contend with it.

And even though Hakoda never brought up his children with the same gushing reverence as Ursa (that was too self-congratulatory, even for Dad-Hakoda), somehow hearing about them straight from the horses’ mouth made these kids **real**.

Zuko didn’t like that either.

He didn’t like that Ursa left to another city to play Happy Families every few weeks, while he stayed in Omashu like a secret.

Not that he wanted any part in his Mom’s weird pseudo-family.

He didn’t.

Not at all.

Zuko was just frustrated at trying to find a way to modify his strategy based on the developing situation.

That was **all**.

He was building up his defences against the oppressive shadow of a family he was definitely not a part of.

He was, however, in no way prepared for the strike that was coming.

18 months on from the first awkward breakfast conversation, Ursa decided to corner him into another, this time while Iroh was still in bed.

“Hakoda has a birthday in a couple of weeks”

“You’ll be visiting then?”

“The kids are throwing a party for him.”

 _The_ kids, not _her_ kids. A nice functioning sibling duo, who probably hadn’t tried to kill each other.

Just what every mother must have envisioned.

“Hm.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“Hmm – What?!”

Slow cold terror seeped into Zuko.

Those two planes should never converge.

Ursa could have her fake kids part-time – if that’s what made her happy, whatever.

But Zuko was not part of that, he didn’t _want_ to be, damn it!

The world in which the Kuruks lived was made up of board game nights and birthday parties and novelty tees with inside jokes printed on the reverse, and Zuko didn’t live there.

 Hell, he didn’t even know what road you took to get there.

But Ursa did. And now she wanted her fake family and her actual, less congenial, real life one too.

Making nice all under the same roof.

It didn’t feel fair.

“No thanks.”

Ursa sighed, and Zuko could already hear what was coming next.

“It wasn’t really a request, Zuko.”

But it still made him annoyed.

“You – you can’t make me!”

“Zuko – ”

“I-I’m 17 – I’m an adult, practically – now – You – I’m not going!”

“Why are you being like this? You get along with Hakoda”

Zuko muttered bitterly in acquiescence.

He did not like the feeling that he was losing this argument.

“So why is it that you have such a problem doing this?”

Because I want no involvement of your slow abandonment of me.

“I will know **two** people at that party – ”

 “Iroh might be coming...”

“Oh, praise Agni – **three**!”

“You will know Sokka and Katara”

“No Mom – I won’t – Just, just because we’re all teenagers doesn’t mean we’re all going to get along swimmingly! And – what do I even know about them?! Their faces and a base knowledge of their greatest achievements isn’t going to turn me into a master conversationalist!”

“Zuko.”

Ursa’s voice had gone quiet.

“I want you to try – ”

“Ah – ”

“ **Don’t** interrupt me here. I want you to come to Ba Sing Se, I want you to _try_ and then we can come home. If it all goes horribly,  I won’t bother you about it again.”

Zuko knew that that was a lie.

He knew it was a false promise made to placate him.

But he consented anyway.

At the end of the day, he respected his Mother’s judgement. And she was right, he did like Hakoda, he was a good man, and maybe that would show up in his kids too.

 

* * *

 

 “Alright then, that’s really great, no – OK, see you all then, bye.”

Katara had occupied the breakfast bar as her work bench; trying (and failing) to explain amphibian respiratory systems.

She was not, however, too busy not to eavesdrop.

Or to miss the use of a plural.

“Who is “all” of them, wasn’t that Ursa on the phone?”

“Zuko and Iroh are coming with her this time”

Sokka took that as his cue to begin the mid-evening (post-dinner) raid of  every food receptacle in the house.

“Did I hear right? Ursa’s kid is coming to visit?”

He had clearly found something to eat, as Katara could hear a tell tale rustling just outside of her immediate field of vision.

“Yeah, I have no idea how she persuaded him into it though, the boy’s stubborn...”

“Ursa is a woman of many wiles”

Sokka supplied sagely.

As sagely as he could whilst crunching.

Normally Katara would’ve have countered Sokka’s “wisdom” with a barb.

Or she’d ask about Ursa’s wellbeing some more.

Or ask Hakoda about his day.

Or just say anything, really.

But she couldn’t. She felt rattled, unsettled, as if Ursa’s announcement had been unpleasant or earth shifting, not innocuous and sort of pleasant.

It was something akin to nervousness, except it wasn’t. Katara was in no way nervous about meeting Ursa’s son, she loved meeting new people and she was _good_ at it.

But justifying that didn’t make the feeling go away.

Perhaps it was just that, Katara had never really expected to actually _meet_ Zuko.

Not that that she had expected _not_ to meet him, it was just that – he existed completely separately from her. She hadn’t even seen a photograph of him (not that she’d asked, exactly), all she knew was his name, and what she could garner about his personality from the anecdotes Hakoda and Ursa would tell when dinner conversation ran dry.

It was almost as if he didn’t really exist at all.

Except now he did.

And in a couple of weeks there would be irrefutable, physical, breathing, decision-making evidence of his existence.

So nervousness seemed like the wrong thing to call it.

But it was in the same neighbourhood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things actually start happening! Hooray!

The train was hot.

And cramped.

And **loud**.

And the seats were sticky.

And Ursa’s sunny attitude was annoying.

And Uncle’s humming was grating.

And that little girl kept _staring_ at him. Or, more accurately, at the left side of him. Her mother who, when having first seen him, shot him a look of shock (which was unpleasant), then pity (which was worse), had scolded her twice for this. And now a third time.

“Don’t stare, honey.”

“But – _his face looks funny_ ”

Zuko snorted at that. Yup, his disfigurement was just _hilarious_. But at least the kid had the courtesy to speak in a stage whisper, unlike her Mom.

“It’s rude, that poor man probably hurt himself in an acci- ”

Zuko stood up abruptly, muttering _“bathroom”_ or something to that effect. He stalked down the aisle, stubbing his feet multiple times on misplaced luggage. Stupid assholes, what did they think the damn rack was for?

Resisting the urge to throw the most recent offending briefcase at its owner, he attempted to get a hold of his breathing, by the time shut the bathroom door behind him he’d managed to stop sounding like a wounded rhinoceros.  Zuko sat down and closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of an oncoming migraine.

He did not care that people looked at his scar.

He did **not**.

It was just annoying being discussed in the third person – Why did people always do that with little kids?!

Zuko chanced a look in the mirror, mentally mapping out the whorls and dips of ruined face, with less familiarity than their respective owner of three years really should have.

He couldn’t care about it.

But, in a moment of self indulgence, he tentatively placed a hand over the twisted side of his reflection.

And looked.

He had missed a section just above his jaw when he’d shaved yesterday.

His hair was a rumpled mess from him running his hands through it in exasperation.

He looked a little tired, not extremely, but the delicate skin under his eye was starting to dark (Zuko made a silent plea for Hakoda’s spare bed to be comfortable – lack of sleep was not something he wanted to add to his already downcast mood when tomorrow came around.)

Returning to his examination, Zuko realised how much he was starting to look like his father. Clean shaven – yes, and his jaw and nose were still losing their fineness from childhood, but the likeness was uncanny, even a little unsettling, so much so that Zuko decided this was the end.

He was calm, and a little more prepared to endure crowded public transport.

Rejoining Iroh and Ursa, Zuko didn’t fail to notice the look of relief on his mother’s face, That seemed a little excessive, it’s not like he could hop off a moving train. But when he sat down and Ursa covered his hand with hers, he decided he didn’t mind her misplaced gratitude.

* * *

 

Katara didn’t mind washing the sheets.

Nor did she mind vacuuming the entire upstairs of the house (including upholstery).

Nor did she mind having to get onto her hands and knees to scrub the bathroom until it _sparkled_ damnit!

She didn’t even mind cleaning the vortex of dirty laundry and snack wrappers that was Sokka’s bedroom (or “man cave” as he had taken to calling it, euphemistic implication totally lost him, despite repeated teasing from Toph).

But her brother had one job, **one job** to do before their guests got there.

She had started the reminders the day before -

“Get the spare bed set up tomorrow, Sokka”

which was met with a grunted affirmative as he channel surfed.

The morning of the following day, when she was picking his _disgusting_ socks off the floor (whilst he lay in his pit, NOT HELPING) she told him again.

“I know ’Tara, I know”

Mid-afternoon, it still hadn’t left the attic.

“Sokka! Bed!”

At six when she got in from grocery shopping, he was slumped on the sofa texting someone (Suki).

And guess where the bed wasn’t.

At least Hakoda was home now to help her with a chorus of

“Get the damn bed out of the attic _, now!_ ”

Which proved enough motivation to get him to _retrieve_ it.

However around 9, a little while since Hakoda had set off to pick them up from the station, Katara was heading up to the bathroom and Sokka’s door, brazenly ajar, showed a sad unmade camp–bed. He had failed to even unfold the damn thing.

The yelling match that ensued resulted in Katara totally missing Hakoda’s greeting from downstairs, which meant that when she indignantly went to storm of the “Man Cave” she found herself face to chest with the illustrious reason for preparing the damn bed in the first place.

“Um – Hi?”

* * *

 

Sleeping the bedroom of a practical stranger was far less awkward than Zuko had originally anticipated. However he suspected that this was more the result of Sokka’s falling asleep the instant his head hit the pillow, rather than the sparkling rapport the pair had built up in the couple of hours since he’d arrived. It wasn’t that Sokka wasn’t trying, Zuko reasoned, in fact it was the trying that had thrown him. He had been expecting non-committal grunts and shrugs and a bitter and withdrawn attitude, that was typical teenage boy behaviour right?                                           Essentially, Zuko had been expecting another Zuko, and he got – enthusiasm?

“So – Zuko, what music d’you like, what’re you into?”

“Uh...”

 

“What’s Omashu like? I’ve only been once – but it was raining so, that sort of killed the experience for me, y’know? How is it non-rainy?”

“Well, ah...”

 

“You play any sports? On any teams? I played Hockey back in the good ol’ days”

“I-I um...”

“Zuko’s a bit of kick boxing fan, aren’t you kid?”

Hakoda, Ursa and Iroh would alternate in aiding his pathetic attempts at answering (for which he was incomprehensively grateful).

“Hey! That’s something, you and Katara should have a lot to talk about then!”

Except they didn’t.

They _really_ didn’t.

Much like Zuko hadn’t anticipated Sokka’s enthusiasm, he hadn’t thought that Hakoda’s youngest would be so, silent. Sure, Katara wasn’t rude or hostile or even unpleasant, but ever since she’d walked into him taking his case up to Sokka’s room, she seemed to be in a weird kind of trance, maybe? From what he remembered from Ursa’s many (and Hakoda’s occasional) rambling about the girl, she was forthright and enthusiastic, friendly, loud even. Hell, Zuko had _seen_ her laying into her brother before.

She seemed to have just receded, tortoise-like, into a state of total silence since the minute they’d met. She was quiet when they were formally introduced, quiet when they all ate, she was even quiet when she had to make up the spare bed for him. She had been _shouting_ at her brother to do it before – _shouting_ \- and now she had just done the task with nothing but a _“Two pillows is enough right?”_

This behaviour seemed unusual to her father and brother too, who kept shooting her _looks_ , which were mostly full of confusion. But the silence wasn’t the only thing that was unnerving Zuko, the staring, if anything, was worse.

Sokka handled it wonderfully, even though he a seemed little lacking in other social graces (not that Zuko had **any** room to talk) a perfunctory glace and then back again, just a flicker. For someone that had been coaching himself for the worst ever since the train, he was shocked that Sokka didn’t flicker again, didn’t take another gawk. The guy made sure to look sure directly into both eyes when trying to engage him, in a manner so reminiscent of Hakoda that Zuko could’ve laughed. But Katara –

When she walked (marched) into his chest, she’d taken a second to recover and then looked up at his face.

Her gaze didn’t flicker.

It **widened**.

She just openly stared at him before awkwardly correcting herself and apologising.

For the bumping into him, not the stare.

But it didn’t stop there – every so often he would feel the heat of her gaze, the brazen boldness of it didn’t seem to fit with her semi-catatonia. Of all the reactions he’d had to his scar, hers was the most drawn out; the novelty had even worn off for the girl on the train about an hour into their journey. It was off-putting, there was, of course the possibility that she was staring at him for another reason, but it was late, and Zuko couldn’t draw any alternatives when he was half-awake. By tomorrow she’d have grown bored of looking.

* * *

 

Up to her elbows in dirty dishwater, as she had been for a while, Katara was having an almost out-of-body experience. That was the only way to explain this weird floating nausea where sounds were less powerful.

She should have asked Ursa to show her a picture – she should have _demanded_.

Because, even though she had spent the past two weeks preparing, asking for food preferences and allergies, washing all the spare sheet sets and sorting out that damn bed. Katara was in no way prepared for Zuko to actually exist.

She could now identify the swirling not-nervousness in her gut that had started with the news of Ursa’s visit. It was guilt.

Katara felt guilty. Guilty because while she had enjoyed playing house and having another woman around the house for once, all that time, was stolen from Ursa’s own family.

From her own kid.

From Zuko – who _existed_.  

And Katara had just ignored that, blocked it out, because it was easier to not acknowledge that for her to get a pseudo-mom for the weekend, someone had been left behind.

The pan Katara must have spent twenty minutes not scrubbing thudded dully as it hit the bottom of the sink. She’d spent dinner in a state of shock while everyone chatted around her. The food actually reaching her mouth was the result of well programmed autopilot Katara, the same went for wishing everyone goodnight and heading to the kitchen to finish washing-up.

And now she was alone she had begun to wallow again, there was really no way of telling how long she’d been downstairs (although the now-cold once-hot dishwater should have been an indicator).

Her pruny hands were the final straw. Katara had had enough contemplation.

Tomorrow she was going to be the perfect host, and her Dad’s would be executed excellently, and _everyone was going to enjoy it_.

Tomorrow, everything would be alright, her guilt wasn’t going away anytime soon but she could ignore it, she had a party to prepare.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things actually happen!

WHO.

IN.

THE.

HOLY.

HELLS.

The shower was running.

It. Was. 6am.

On a _Saturday_.

It wasn’t enough that she felt like shit and had 5000 things to do that day, her precious few hours of sleep had been cut short by some inconsiderate _asshole_. Katara hauled herself out of bed, her righteous indignation proving to be a distinctly more powerful motivator than her alarm clock on weekdays.

STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

She was not going to dampen the sounds of her footsteps. She’d been unceremoniously dragged out of her slumber, why should everyone else be spared?

BANG. BANG.

OK – maybe the force of the knocks were a little excessive, her hand hurt a little, but it did the trick, the sound of the water cut off. Who was even in there? Sokka WAS NOT AWAKE, Dad didn’t have to go into the office today –

“I – uh – I’ll be out in a second!”

 

Wait.

 

Was that - ?

 

 

Oh Spirits.

 

The door handle was moving, she couldn’t run away... could she?

“Sorry – ” Zuko started a little. Shocked for some reason that she was the one there, Katara however was too busy having a crisis to notice his confusion, her eyes cast diligently on the floor.

“- I – I didn’t think anyone would be up yet – ”

That caught her notice. It awakened enough of her original annoyance for her to look up and begin what was sure to be a glorious tirade on selfish bathroom usage –

Looking up had been a stupid fucking decision.

His hair was wet. He’d pushed it off his face at some point between the shower and the door, but a couple of strands remained slicked down near his temples, water droplets tracing a path down from there to the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his throat. His chest was tinged pink, possibly from the water pressure, but more likely from the temperature. And he was so pale, Katara hadn’t noticed so much in the yellow light of the dining room, in the grey morning sun it was obscene, like bone ivory, like milk. He seemed taller than she recalled too... and thicker...

“Katara?”

She brought her eyes back up to where they _should_ have been focused. Zuko looked a little embarrassed? Exasperated? It was hard to tell. Wait, why was he talking? Shouldn’t he have moved out of the bathroom doorway by now? That was pretty weird –

“Um, Katara?”

This was where she should answer. Right.

“Yes!”

She was attentive Katara today. Ultimate Hostess. Getting her second chance at a first impression.

“Could I just - ?” He gestured off to the left of her, as if to make a move in that direction.

She’d bodily trapped him in the fucking doorway.

“Shit! – Sorry!”

Springing over to the right as if completing the motion with greater speed would somehow compensate for her earlier ineffectuality.

“Thanks – ”

Zuko shuffled past her, down the hall to Sokka’s room. Katara took a moment and listened to him leave. Footsteps shockingly soft for someone his size. 

* * *

“So you’re hiding too, huh?”

That left him slightly ruffled. Zuko was not _hiding_. He may, or may not have found a good, low visibility spot between a convenient bookcase and the far corner of the dining room. But he was not _hiding_. If he _was_ hiding, no one would’ve been able to find him, no, anyone could waltz over and speak to him if they so desired –

As evidenced by the small grubby girl, and the sheepish long-haired guy she’d dragged over with her. He told them as much. Although perhaps in a less cohesive way than he had envisioned in his head.

“Well maybe you aren’t _technically_ ; but you are huddled up in a corner, giving off this prickly, _‘just try it, buddy’_ vibe – ”

Zuko made a noise in the back of his throat, that may have been a _tsk_ of disapproval or annoyance.

“ – Anyway, we’re looking for a place to hide too, and since you’ve so kindly done our job for us, scootch!”

Grumbling, he shuffled further into the corner to make room for rude girl and her friend, who at least **seemed** a little reluctant to encroach on his space. The girl grinned and wiggled the toes of her (Zuko had only just noticed) bare feet in apparent glee.

“Toph Bei Fong” She declared, in a tone that implied Zuko was stupid for not recognising her on the spot,

“Friend of the family and this – ”, she pointed to nervous friend, “Is Haru.”

The pause drew on for a little too long before the aforementioned realised it was his turn to talk.

“Ah – Hi!” Long hair-guy (Haru) smiled.

“So... Bei Fong is a family friend, and you’re - ?”

Haru looked puzzled.

“Y’know... cousin, classmate, friend, boyfriend...”

Toph snorted. Nothing was apparently funny about what Zuko had said. He ignored it.

“Ah! No – yes, I’m the neighbour” Haru waved his arms over to the east side of the house.

“And, I’m in the year above Katara at school”

That would make them the same age then.

“Speaking of Sugar Queen, how’s the welcome committee been treating you, Zhu?”

“Zhu?!”

“It’s only temporary until I think of a better one, don’t avoid the question.”

It was too close for comfort was what it was. Were the whole two syllables of his name that difficult to manage?

“Everyone’s been nice.”

“Whoa don’t hold back there!”

“Well they have!”

Zuko tried to keep his voice muted. He was not going to yell at some 13 year old he’d just met. Or, give away his location. But he certainly wasn’t about to divulge how _almost_ all of the welcome committee had been nice. Or, how the outlier and her intense attentiveness that had started that morning made him more uneasy than her staring.

Thankfully he was saved.

“Hey! Twinkletoes!”

A shorn haired boy was pulled into their corner (which was becoming pretty crowded) by his shirt collar, seemingly not remotely alarmed at being grabbed by Toph.

“This is where you guys are! Hi Zuko!”

Shit, they’d been introduced earlier. It was a long vowel sound, Zuko was sure, Umi? On Gee? – Oh Agni what was he called.

“Hi.”

He’d just have to wait, someone was bound to say it in the conversation and save him right?

“I just saw Katara, I think she’s looking for you.”

Zuko couldn’t help but freeze. And Toph, sandwiched between him and Haru, noticed.

“Ha – So that’s why you’re hiding!”

“I’m _not_ – ”

“Not that I blame you, Sugar Queen is being pretty intense today, like, even more pushy than usual.”

Zuko could only mumble.

It had been non-stop since the shower incident that morning. Katara wouldn’t leave him alone. But it wasn’t like Sokka’s conversation attempts the night before, he gained no further knowledge of Katara at all, and her manner wasn’t even friendly per se; she had taken on the brisk efficiency of an aide or personal assistant of some description. Zuko was led from group of party guests to group of party guests, all of whom were “just dying” to meet him.

They weren’t.

People were dying to meet Ursa, and Iroh had enough charisma to hold his own in a room full of strangers. Zuko did not. He was an afterthought. And he really was fine with that. What he was good at was skulking on the edge of the fray, everything his etiquette tutor had instilled in him stayed behind a locked door along with much of his early “education”. But lurking was not an option with Katara around, and whilst part of him appreciated what she was trying to do, that didn’t stop him from being annoyed about it, or unnerved at how quickly her transformation had occurred since the night before. He’d escaped when she’d gone to check something in the kitchen, and installed himself in his hiding space. A space that was becoming distinctly more conspicuous the more guests it gained.

“Katara isn’t pushy! She’s just... concerned.” Baldy weighed in.

“She’s in her ‘Hostess Mode’”

The group all sent Haru questioning looks, making him fluster a little.

“Um – whenever there’s an event at the house like this, I don’t think that Sokka or Hakoda do much of the work, Katara always seems saddled with the bulk of it, it’s her choice but – she takes on this er – like a manager persona or something, just so everything goes over smoothly, like she can’t relax unless everything is perfect.”

“ _Tsk_ – How Sugar Queen, ‘duty before self’”

Zuko felt a little guilty. Just _a little_. But it was enough.

“I’ll – I, where did you say she was?”

Baldy seemed to brighten a little.

“The kitchen, I’ll take you to her!”

Zuko wasn’t going to get lost travelling to the adjacent room, but the kid seemed so enthused about the prospect, bouncing on the balls of his feet, it just felt too mean to refuse him.

* * *

 

Everything was OK.

Everything was _fine_.

There was a good flow of people from room to room. Food was evenly circulated – no one seemed to be going without drinks. Dad had seemed to like all of his presents, in fact he was enjoying the Arctic Wine Bato had given him a little _too_ much, but, Katara reasoned, it was his birthday. Ursa was demure and charming as always, Iroh’s supply of funny anecdotes was seemingly limitless, making him popular amongst the guests, particularly with Bumi, the pair were chatting on like old friends. There was just one little blip on the radar. But as Katara set about finishing the penultimate concentric circle of vol au vents, the sound of fast approaching cheery conversation put an end to her revelry.

“ – weren’t the curators annoyed?”

“Well – we did apologise afterwards, Kuzon is a real smooth talker though, he could probably get out of anything! Hey Katara! Look who I found!”

There he was. The blip. In the flesh.

“Thanks Aang!”

Katara had tried for enthusiasm, but it fell just a little flat. She returned her attention to her culinary arrangement before speaking again.

“I just have to take these into the dining room, Zu – ”

“I’ll take them for you! You seem pretty busy in here!” With his signature airy grace, Aang whisked the tray out of her hands (and the kitchen) before she could protest.

Suddenly she was along with Zuko.

“I – ah – Met Haru and Toph...”

“Oh, cool.”

Fiddling with the oven dials for something to do, Katara felt a little jab of envy; Zuko, Toph and Haru having cosy little chats, Suki and Sokka drinking and laughing with her Dad in the lounge, and where was she? What was she doing? She wasn’t the damn scullery maid! No. No. Thoughts like that were stupid and dangerous. Ursa and Iroh had been helping before the guests arrived and she’s _volunteered_ to do this, she liked doing this stuff. She knew she did. Today was not about her.

“Did you, er, want some help in here?”

Looking over her shoulder, Katara saw Zuko, eyes shifting over everything in the room that wasn’t her, he still hadn’t moved from the doorway where Aang had brought him in.

“Sure – Sure, would you mind slicing the mangoes up for me?”

Although giving him that task would result in Katara having nothing to do until the fruit pies had finished cooling, she was willing to do anything to stop him from looking so uncomfortable.

“Cool – Yeah – Ok”

Katara directed him to the chopping board she had set up before, at the opposite end of the breakfast bar. And it was silent again.

It wasn’t like this before! Katara had been genial and engaging at breakfast, everyone had gotten along, and it’d been fine when she’d been introducing him to everyone. Was it just the lack of other people present that was causing this? Sure Zuko was withdrawn, maybe even a little antisocial at times but she was **Katara**. She could coax a conversation out of the most hardened, stern naval officers from her Dad’s crew.

So why was this so difficult?

“So, ah – Haru lives next door?”

“Yeah, yeah, his Dad’s a carpenter; he made the dining room table.”

“Oh, I though it looked, uh – sturdy.”

“Yeah – it can support a lot of plates”

So fucking lame.

“What did you make of Toph?”

“She’s certainly... something.”

“Tell me about it, nothing gets past that girl, she’d guessed Dad was seeing someone weeks before he told us about Ursa.”

“I see.”

The silence again. Except now it was punctuated by the steady _thunk_ of Zuko’s chopping.

They both tried to speak at the same time.

“So Aang seems – ”

“What did you say you were stu – ”

Even the chopping had paused now.

“Um, you first.”

But Hakoda, Ursa and what must have been most of the party strode into the kitchen and cut them off. Zuko set his eyes back down to the board and continued to chop, evidently not as interested in the suddenly crowded kitchen as she was. And it was crowded.

“Dad, will you tell us why we’re all here before someone gets crushed please!” Called Sokka from the doorframe, arm wrapped securely around Suki’s waist.

“Alright – Alright – ”

Hakoda gestured for silence, his eyes brighter than usual, as was Ursa who was gathered at his side, two spots of pink dusted her otherwise pale cheeks. Raising his Arctic Wine in toast he began –

“To Ursa, Iroh and Zuko, our wonderful guests, and to new beginnings!”

“Here, here!”

Everyone who could drink, drank. But when the glasses were lowered, Hakoda made his gesture for silence again.

“And on that note – we have an announcement to make, honey – ”

All of the eyes in the room flicked over to Ursa, whose grin was broader than Katara had ever seen it before.

“Hakoda and I have decided to move in together”

She didn’t shout it, Ursa was softly spoken, but the impact was enough to cause a brief silence. Brief, in that it was swiftly broken by a poorly muffled _“Shit!”_ , Katara joined everyone else in staring at the far end of the breakfast bar, where Zuko had somehow managed to slice his hand open.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is an angsty baby and naps are taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may seem to cut off at an odd place - fear not - there is a dinner scene, but when I included it in the original draft of this chapter it was just too long. So chapter 6 will start very much where this one ended. Sorry for the delay as well, I'm aiming for an update every week, but I have a few assignments at the moment, which unfortunately slows everything down.  
> In case there was any confusion about the ages: Katara - 16, Zuko - 17/18, Sokka 18 {whose age was changed entirely to convenience the plot, how lazy of me}.

Jin was crying.

This was not a shocker. Jin cried at the end of pet movies when the dog died, even though the dog _always_ dies. Loud, messy tears were slowly saturating her shirt collar, and her nose was running, and all of this was predictable, she had shed tears for any innumerable amount of unworthy causes before. But when Zuko noticed Song’s eyes looking a little too watery, his gut clenched and it sank in a little bit more. These were his friends. The only people at school willing to tolerate him after the novelty of his detached aloofness wore off, or his prickly personality shone through, whichever happened first. But it was more than toleration, they’d sought him out. Repeatedly. Bold, enthusiastic Jin and quiet, determined Song, who wouldn’t let him sit alone at lunch no matter how many ugly glares or harsh barbs he sent in their direction. They were his friends, his first real friends. And now he had to leave them. Having always anticipated the abandonment to be the other way around this was certainly a change of pace. Because he was the variable factor here, the active element, the thing that was changing. If only he felt like he had asserted that change. Instead it was like treading water, being able to breathe but the tide was still puling him further and further out.

Uncle had handed Jin a tissue and was now patting the shoulder of his favourite tea server.

Uncle.

Whilst Zuko didn’t want to wish Jin and Song goodbye, with Iroh, he didn’t know that he could.

The car boot clicked shut. It was a rental. An estate in silver or maybe blue. When push came to shove they found a moving van really wasn’t necessary, the furniture was either Iroh’s or the apartments, they wouldn’t need it anyway, or utensils, or food. Clothes, books, photos and a lonely baby shoe (that could have been Azula’s as easily as it could have been his), only took up six boxes in the end and with only two people in the car; a lots of empty space had to be accounted for.

It all felt fake, but it wasn’t. And he knew that. And it was horrible.

Ursa was coming back from the car now. This was it. Five people and six boxes and the doorway of an apartment complex were what Zuko’s entire life boiled down to.

Turning to the girls first, Jin’s hiccups increased in volume and she threw her arms round his neck, Song gently joining the hug a moment later. It seemed like it lasted for a long time, it wasn’t enough. When they broke apart, Zuko tried, earnestly, but he couldn’t push the ‘thank you’ any further than the back of his throat where it was lodged, along with all of the apologies they deserved from him.

“You’ll have a great time, I know it.”

Song smiled genially, eyes shining.

Jin made an attempt to join in, but words were proving difficult, he could have sworn he heard ‘idiot’ in there somewhere though. That sounded about right.

“Keep in touch remember! You never know, we could all end up at the same college next year!”

Zuko nodded. Words were proving difficult for him too.

Iroh was next.

He didn’t want to do this. He hadn’t cried for a long time, not really, not out of sadness.

He went in for a handshake, a move that was somehow amusing to everyone judging by the chorus of watery chuckles. Zuko was pulled into a hug before he could demand what was so funny.

Once free from Iroh’s embrace he was forced to look directly at him. His uncle was crying. Crap.

“Remember Zuko, Life can only be understood backwards – It must be lived forwards.”

At least it wasn’t as cryptic as usual.

The party had started to move forwards. Iroh had one hand on his shoulder and the other entwined with Ursa’s, who was the first to break away, kissing him on the cheek for good measure before getting into the driver’s seat.

“Take care of your mother, Zuko”

He promised he would and tried not to make eye contact, because it felt like last time, just a little but enough to hurt. There was that treading water helplessness again.

The three figures remained waving until the car turned a corner and they were gone. Ursa was crying quietly and Zuko wondered if she knew any other way.

* * *

 

The heat of Ba Sing Se was dry, more muted than it was during the party visit, Summer was winding down into the beginning of Autumn, some leaves had already started to change.

They arrived at 14:20 approx., to an empty house. Hakoda had left them a key under the doormat, he would be arriving back from work around 5, Katara (who was attending supplementary classes of some description) would return some time before him. Sokka had moved into halls of residence two weeks earlier; which was, apparently, the catalyst for this whole debacle, because it opened up somewhere for Zuko to go. He was an awkward outlier, the snagging point, everyone else had their own space to occupy, Zuko had to borrow someone else’s.

 The room was far too big for him. All of Sokka’s stuff either with him or presumably stuffed in the attic, because the room was _empty_. Zuko unpacked his own two boxes within 20 minutes, then spent the next hour trying to get the room to look less barren, with disappointing results. No matter how many times he rearranged them, his books only took up only one and a half shelves of the case and his two dress shirts and winter coat were the only things that he could conceive _needed_ hanging in the cavernous wardrobe, it seemed that what had filled his room at the apartment had been swallowed up in this place. A place that was obviously not his, and Zuko distinctly felt that the notice board full of unused pins and neat A4 rectangles of wallpaper that were two shades darker than the rest of the wall were just the tip of the iceberg.

The only other sound in the house was Ursa moving her things into Hakoda’s room. They had barely spoken during the ride, not in any deliberate of malicious way, functional, ‘I think we should make a stop’, ‘Would you like something to eat?’ exchanges were had, it just seemed that beyond that, there was nothing to say.

At a loss for anything more to do, Zuko lay down the, (his), bedspread. The sheets seemed new, which was nice. He worried the unstuck edges of the plaster on his palm, an unfortunate reminder of his previous visit to this household. He really hadn’t intended to make a scene. _Really_. That was the opposite of what he wanted. Well at least he knew now to be more discerning with what he grabbed during times of duress (carving knifes = **bad** ). Zuko recalled the immediate aftermath of being sat on a stool with his arm in the air, while Katara played nurse. That had been nice actually. Not having his wound disinfected, that fucking hurt, but Katara was easier to be around when there was the buffer of a task between them, it was less stiflingly awkward, it was a shame that it had only happened when he was bleeding profusely. Thereby, a sort of a strategy had formed in Zuko’s mind, that the way to live comfortably with Katara was to only ever be along with her when there was some sort of task in hand, preventing awkward silences and misdirected gazes at least in part.

* * *

 

The handles of the shopping bags had stretched too thin and were cutting into Katara’s forearms something awful. OK – Maybe a last minute grocery dash hadn’t been entirely necessary, she’d done her ‘Big Shop’ on Tuesday which should have had everything. But, well, she couldn’t remember if Zuko was lactose intolerant or not! He’d had toast for breakfast last time he stayed and she couldn’t remember him eating any dairy products at the party and she hadn’t thought to ask him and then that raised the question of other food allergies, and what about preferences just generally? She absolutely couldn't remember from before, and she couldn't ask Ursa again that was just rude. But some people just couldn’t stomach picken meat... Oh God...What if they had converted to vegetarianism?!

A mild panic attack and an hour later Katara was hauling her wares back from the bus stop. What time had she said she’d be back again? Crap, she was probably late.

Ursa and Zuko had probably finished their unpacking by now, without anyone there to help them.

Had they eaten on the way there?

Had they found the leftovers in the fridge that she’d labelled?

What if Dad was back now and they were all waiting on her?

“Urgh....” Katara set the bags down on the pavement to rest for a second, she sincerely hoped that almond milk would keep in this heat, she certainly wasn’t fairing very well. Summer in Ba Sing Se was fine, great really – if you could lounge around in the garden all day. The cooling evening air just made Katara all the more aware of the sweat at her hairline and sticking her shirt to her back, were school uniforms really necessary for additional classes? Surely voluntarily coming into school during the holidays showed dedication enough...

Whatever. She had other things to think about now, like where she could possibly summon the strength to carry these bags the rest of the way home.

* * *

 

Zuko did not understand his uncle’s penchant for naps. Seriously. His mouth tasted like dirt, his left leg had cramped up and he didn’t feel any less tired than when his head had hit the pillow.

Was there a trick he was missing? An optimum nap time maybe? Were you supposed to brush your teeth first? Did naps really require this level of planning?

Whatever, it was an experience he wasn’t in a hurry to repeat, the main reason he’d indulged was to relieve boredom; stuck in the stasis of post-packing, nothing had quite seemed right. Much like Sokka’s room was still Sokka’s room (just-with-Zuko-in-it-for-a-little-while), the whole house gave him the same feeling of apprehension, it was rude, surely, to watch someone’s TV when they weren’t home. The same went for exploring the rooms and eating their food was just out of the question. Zuko felt jittery, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, as if at any second Hakoda would burst in and demand to know what he was doing in his house. Ursa was doing nothing to relieve this tension, floating round the house and picking invisible lint off of the upholstery, occasionally shooting imploring looks at the sink, as if puppy-dog eyes would cause dirty dishes to miraculously appear. Hell, Zuko wouldn’t have said no to washing up if it have him something to do, but the house was spotless. Ursa’s listlessness was causing Zuko to worry too – Was she regretting her decision? Did she want to go back? Should he ask her? He decided no, in the end he trusted his Mom, and that meant trusting her judgement. She had made it clear before that this was what she wanted and Zuko held onto that, because right then she had looked as lost as he felt.

Having slept on it, Zuko didn’t feel any more appeased, just more irritable. His joints popped gratifyingly as he stretched, chancing a glance at his alarm clock (on Sokka’s bedside table) 6:37 pm. Oh. Did that mean that everyone was back and he was asleep? Were they waiting on him? Had someone looked in on him _napping_? For some reason that felt incredibly embarrassing – it wasn’t like he was wont to falling asleep in the middle of the day like an old man, but it still felt private, and other people seeing that was not what he wanted.

Perking his ears up he could hear people moving and talking downstairs, more than two people. Zuko didn’t want to intrude on that, he could predict his entering the room causing silence, and who knew which version of Katara he would be encountering tonight. Maybe if they _had_ looked in on him they would assume he was still asleep now a leave him for the rest of the night – yeah – he’d still be bored, sure, and he’s have to stay as quiet as possible, but still he could greet everyone tomorrow morning and this could be the funny anecdote he opened wi-

KNOCK KNOCK

Shit.

Should he feign deafness? Pretend to be asleep?

“Zuko?”

That wasn’t his Mom. Nor was it Hakoda.

“I’ve made dinner if you want to come down...?”

Crap. There was something inherently evil about not eating the food someone took the time to make for you. There was that plan out of the window.

 “I’ll be out in a second!”

On the other side of the door Katara started a little at the sound. It seemed that her understanding of object permanence did not extend to Zuko, as soon as she could see him, he didn’t exist. Or maybe she had just expected him to stay sleeping like he was when she arrived. Either way Katara couldn’t shake the strange feeling that there was something oddly familiar about this situation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter so far!  
> This was a gross monster to edit so I apologise for any incoherence.  
> Please enjoy!

“It’s good.”

That was the third time it had been ‘good’, in Zuko’s esteemed opinion. It had also been ‘fine’ and ‘nice’ and a whole plethora of other variants of vague. Katara was subtle and quick in her glances, trying to monitor his expression for any flicker, any impression of distaste or veiled repulsion. He gave nothing away.

OK.

Maybe she should just take it at face value, he liked the food – and the general lack of anaphylaxis seemed to indicate that he wasn’t horribly allergic to anything she’d made either.

Good, good.

Good. It was good, wasn’t it? That was the desired effect that was what she was aiming for right? So why did it ring so empty?

“How was class today?”

Hakoda was turning the conversation in her direction, right! Time to be as poised and charming as she knew how.

“It was essay writing so, mostly theory – ”

She paused and though about trying for a giggle, just to add something, but decided that no, that seemed just a little too contrived.

“Taking notes from Professor Zei isn’t exactly thrilling, but, if it’s going to be helpful next term – ”

“They made you attend in uniform”

What.

What?

Katara looked at Zuko, who stared intently right back, right at her, both eyes fixed on hers in... anticipation? How exactly was she supposed to respond to such an asinine statement? Was it supposed to be a question? Because he certainly hadn’t intoned it like one.

“Yes...”

The uncertainty of her trailing tone seemed to make Zuko break their staring contest suddenly, as if he was only just realising that gazing deeply into someone’s eyes wasn’t exactly fitting for the mood of light dinner table conversation. Or something you did at all with someone you’d met twice.

“Ah – uh – I see – It’s very – ah – green?”

OK, now it sounded like a question when it wasn’t. Zuko’s focus having shifted from her, to the seemingly, equally compelling back of his left hand. Was that embarrassment? Was he embarrassed? He didn’t seem like the type. Stoic, gruff, maybe, silent, but through choice, even though their previous exchanges had been awkward she had put that down to faults on her side, and meeting-people-for-the-first-time-nervousness. But now, Katara was having to re-evaluate, and throwing him a line seemed like the best way to find out.

“Yeah, well, **Earth Kingdom** , the capital especially.”

Zuko snorted; an almost amused sound. That’s right, he got it, because he was an outsider too. Although she had never said it, Ursa was too fair skinned and golden eyed to be anything but Fire Nation. And whilst she’d talked about moving to Omashu three years previously, that’s as far back as her anecdotes would extend, as if nothing had existed before then.

“Tell me about it. You’ve gotten off lightly with just sweaters, back in Omashu even the skirts were green...”

Was that the kind of guy Zuko was? The kind that paid a lot of attention to girls school uniforms? If so, _ew_.

However, he also seemed to realise how it must have sounded, right after the words had left him, and his gaze shot up from his hand to suddenly everywhere, flicking over everyone’s faces for their response, like a cornered animal.

“I mean – I – it’s not that like I was – y’know – I – ah – I wouldn’t pay attention like _that_ – or anything – I – ”

Hakoda broke his bluster with a barked out laugh and a pat on the back.

“Don’t worry about it kid, we know what you mean.”

Zuko was _blushing_. Even his ears were pink, were it not for the fierce scowl it might have even been endearing. Might.

Ursa smiled at him.

“While we’re on the subject of uniform, yours still need buying Zuko – ”

Dinner over Katara stood in her signature spot by the sink. Ursa had offered to help, as she usually did, but Ursa had been driving and unpacking all day and accepting her offer would just have been selfish. The same went for Hakoda, he had been at work since seven. It was perfectly fine that this was just expected of her.

Just as she, perfectly calmly, threw a particularly offensive saucepan into the drying wrack, Katara thought she heard something. She paused. She heard it again. Was that someone, clearing their throat? She span round to look for the source, and there he was, the doorframe in which he stood now the current victim of his too intense scrutiny.

“Yes?”

Was that too curt? It felt a little too curt?

“I was wondering if you would like any help”

His eyes flicked over to her briefly and then back to the doorway, as if to demonstrate that that was in fact directed to her, as opposed to all the other people in the room. Was she really so frightening, or were his people skills just that poor? It took a couple further seconds of wondering for Katara to remember that that was in fact a question and she did need to answer.

“You’re fine, really. I’ve got it.”

“...But you made the dinner so – ”

“Well you’ve been travelling all day, _so_.”

She really hadn’t meant to sound so combative, she knew he was only offering to help, and that had definitely been the sound of her snapping at him for it. But it was too late now, the look of sheepishness had melted off Zuko’s face, replaced with a scowl that made the previous one at the dinner table look positively genial.

And that just got on Katara’s nerves.

She was saving him from having to do a _chore_ not kicking puppies.

“I just wanted – ” His voice was measured now. No longer gentle. Was he trying to _dumb it down_ for her?!

“Well I’m telling you its _fine_.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

The kitchen door slammed.

Katara felt like sliding to the floor.

What the hell had that been?

 

* * *

 

She had to apologise.

... Or did she?

Yes. Yes she did.

... But did she _really_?

He had been to one to yell first.

No. That didn’t matter.

...But it was true.

 **And** it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that the shower running had woken her up at 6am **again** (what did he have to be up early for? Doing nothing for the maximum number of hours a day?)

It didn’t matter because she was Katara.

She was mature.

And she should apologize to clear the air.

No matter how procedural, forced or disingenuous that apology may be.

Katara dragged her weary gaze over to Zei’s whiteboard scribblings on APA referencing. Even if this got her into college, Tui it was dull. At least it was the last class before term started up again. That would give her what, 10 days of freedom – what was she going to do? Suki, her spiritual guide for what parties to sneak into, was in Kyoshi with Sokka, so that avenue was bust. Toph was in Gaoling with her parents visiting some aged relative. Which left her with, Aang and Haru? What a combination.

The remainder of Aang’s vacation time would undoubtedly be interrupted with frequent hospital visits. And hanging out with Haru alone had never been quite comfortable after their two month romance in 9th grade burned to the ground, resulting in a lot of guilty glances (him) and a lot of haughtily leaving rooms (her) .

Before, there had always been the third option of hanging around and doing nothing at home (with the optional addition of Sokka). But that just didn’t seem viable anymore. Because Zuko was at home. And would be, _consistently_ , for the foreseeable future.

Even with her frustration at the previous night’s antics dissipating somewhat, the fact remained that hanging around with an almost stranger was not comfortable. The pair of them were hovering on the formidable precipice between acquaintances and... Whatever came after you get acquainted. Which wouldn’t have been awkward, were they school friends, or if they’d met at a party. But they were sharing a living space, which changed the game completely.

Katara had managed to avoid him this morning, not wanting to catch the tail-end of whatever wrath residual from the night before. She’d had her breakfast without a peep from him. And class was taking up the majority of her day. But that buffer would be gone soon, which would make avoiding him impossible. And Katara was worried, because even if her apology would give her an opener into a conversation, she seriously feared she had run out of things to talk to him about.

 

* * *

 

Zuko was making a schedule.

Because schedules were good, solid.

You could form a routine, stick to it and bring some semblance of predictability into your life.

Plus, if you always had a task you occupy yourself with then your chances of yelling at your unsuspecting Mother’s boyfriend’s daughter were sure to decrease, right? Right?

Urgh. Zuko didn’t want to think about last night. But there was also very much nothing else to do. He reviewed what he had of his schedule (preliminary draft) so far:

5:55am – Wake up, shower (10 mins approx.)

6:30 – 6:45am – Avoid Hakoda getting his breakfast and leaving for work

6:55 – 7:00am – No one else is in the kitchen at this time (get breakfast, preferably that which can be consumed in room)

7:45am – Katara leaves around this time for class

8:00am – Run through Kata (avoid acrobatic sets = too loud on landing)

8:25am – Wish Ursa goodbye (if she gets this job – actual departure may be earlier)

9:00am – Decide to make schedule (preliminary draft)

9:30am – Jog to clear head (route around neighbourhood still being determined – No. 17 have yappy poodle-monkey)

10:15am – Shower again (10 mins approx.)

11:00am – More thorough inspection of kitchen cupboards (not every day necessity – bi-weekly tops)

Note: Katara leaves post-its on food to designate it, Hakoda does not, does this make it a house rule or sole responsibility of the person who cooks?

See also – Is Katara always the one who cooks?

11:45am – Drink three glasses of water (hydration is important for concentration)

12:00 noon – Attempt to meditate

12:15pm – Use this time to find chores that need doing.

Note: Clothes drawers are now reorganised (in descending order: underwear, shirts, trousers)

12:30pm – Attempt to meditate again

12:45pm – Become so consumed with boredom that you actually think of an elaborate plan to trap and dispose of irritating poodle monkey (optional)

It was now 13:12pm (precisely) and Zuko sat back in his desk chair and sighed.

Maybe he needed a hobby. Images of his childhood calligraphy lessons flashed before his eyes unbidden, no, no, hobbies were stupid.

He could watch TV, except the front door opened right into the living room, giving him no/little warning before someone walked in on him. Not that he would be watching anything incriminating! Oh, Agni, no. It was just that, despite some of the house’s tension being broken by Hakoda’s return from work the other night, he still wasn’t comfortable here, he still felt like he was occupying somebody else’s space.  Maybe, hopefully that would go away once he started school. Once he had two environments to subsist in instead of just one, but in the interim...

What did most teenage boys _do_ when they were home alone anyway?

Zuko cast a perfunctory glance out of the window; at the far east gable of the house he had a view of next door’s westernmost side, as well as a sizeable portion of their garden (which had a nice rockery). Haru’s house, he remembered.

Haru.

Haru who was now standing, bleary eyed and bare-chested, at what must have been his bedroom window.

Which just so happened to look directly into Sokka’s.

Crap.

Zuko tried to hit the deck as fast as he possibly could before he was spotted. He _tried_. He tried, not accounting for both the desk and the desk chair being possible hindrances on his descent. What ended up happening was a combination of Zuko and the chair slamming to the floor with such resounding force, that he was pretty sure he had shaken sparrowkeets from the rafters. Groaning, Zuko tried to pry himself apart from the chair and pulled himself up using the desk, chancing a look out the window to see if Haru was still there. He was. He hadn’t seemed to have moved from his previous location at all, but now he was looking back, a vaguely worried crease in his brow.

There was no hiding now.

Pulling himself up completely and setting the chair into a standing position, Zuko attempted what he hoped was a jovial wave, praying that Haru would reciprocate and then disengage from whatever exactly this non-verbal tryst they were having was. But, no such luck, Haru had slid open his window and gestured for Zuko to do the same.

What were his options?

He could just pretend he hadn’t noticed, except, no he couldn’t, since _he_ had been the one to acknowledge Haru’s presence in the first place, for Agni’s sake. He acquiesced, sticking his head and shoulders out the window in a mirror of his neighbour.

“Hey, you OK?”

“Uh - ?”

“Ah – I mean, that was quite the fall, I could hear it from over here”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah... yeah.”

“So – d’you guys make the move OK?”

“Yeah, it was fine, thanks.”

“Sorry I didn’t come over or anything, I was waiting to see a moving van or something – ”

“Oh – Ah, we, we didn’t need one in the end, um, not enough stuff.”

“I see.”

How long were exchanges like these supposed to last?

Was this going to happen every time there was a mutual glimpse through the window?

Was Zuko going to have to start a new life at below-sill level in order to escape?

“My mom had welcome dishes for me to bring over – you know – ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ gifts – ”

People did that?! It wasn’t just one of those fictional paradigms that happened on TV and nowhere else, like exceptionally specific retrograde amnesia or soul mates?

“Are you busy? I’ll bring it over now if you wa– ”

“No! Uh – I mean – ”

Crap. Why had he refused? That made it sound like he was actually doing something, like he hadn’t spent the past seven hours bored out of his skull. Shit, he was being really rude too.

“I-I’ll come over and pick them up! If – if that’s any easier... for you... ”

Haru looked a little taken aback. Probably because of the unwarranted yelling.

“Sure – give me five minutes OK?”

“OK.”

Haru’s house was quiet and cool, all dark wood and solid fixtures. That’s right, his dad was carpenter, he must have made some of these. Presently Zuko found himself seated in the living room. Haru had somehow persuaded him into staying for a drink for his trouble (the trouble of walking four strides from the Kuruks’ home to theirs). What Zuko supposed was the family cat watched him from its perch on the coffee table, its tail snaking back and forth across the polished wood of the surface.

“Is beer OK? I know it’s a little early, but at least it’s cold.”

Beer was fine. He told Haru this.

Something stronger would have been better. He did not tell him that.

“My mom would have brought these over more punctually – ”

Haru set down an open bottle and two casserole dishes covered in foil in front of him. The cat scampered off.

“ – But she left for business yesterday morning so – ”

He retreated back into the kitchen.

“ – Me and Dad were left to deliver, which inevitably means it’s going to end up late”

Haru took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa to Zuko, his own bottle now in hand. He had to maintain a conversation for as long as it took to drink his drink, probably longer, Zuko supposed pouring the whole thing down his throat in less than a minute was out of the question.

“Your – your dad’s not home?”

“No, he’s at the workshop, got some big commission coming up...”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re refurbishing the Fire Nation embassy as a show of good faith before the peace summit – ”

“O-oh.”

“Yeah. So everything’s dragon themed, or phoenixes – Dad reckons he’s going to lose his sight over all the scales and feathers.”

Zuko forced out a half laugh.

He didn’t want to dwell on anything to do with dragons.

“S-So, school, right?” What a seamless transition. Well done Zuko.

“Yeah, 10 days, you’ll be in my year, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, they’re an OK bunch, and the ones that aren’t OK really aren’t there often enough to cause you any trouble.”

“OK.” Had he sounded worried? Did he look like the type that would be worried to Haru?

“So – what are your electives?”

 

* * *

 

Katara managed to get home for 3:45, despite dawdling after class had finished, dawdling on her way to the bus stop, dawdling on her walk from the bus stop, she was back, early, it was time to face him.

Except the house was silent, utterly silent, like, no-one-else-could-possibly-be-in-this-house, silent.

Was he taking a nap again?

What was he an old man?

She needed to apologise, damn it! And he was going to listen. Katara tried a couple of raps on his door, nothing.

“Zuko, Zuko?” Nothing.

He'd better hope he was asleep.

“Zuko, I’m coming in, OK?”

Opening the door tentatively, the first thing Katara noticed was not so much the lack of Zuko (although that revelation quickly followed suit), but just the overall lack of anything. The room seemed barely disturbed from the state it was in when Sokka moved out –

Had he not unpacked yet?

Except there were no boxes, not anywhere.

What kind of person came without stuff attached?

He was a teenage boy wasn’t he? Where was all his teenage boy crap?

Posters? Comic books? Photos of friends? Hell, action figures and stacks of dirty magazines would have been more concerting than nothing.

Just what kind of person was this guy?

As if in answer to her question, the front door clicked shut.

Shit.

Katara sped out of the room as quietly as possible, and proceeded down the stairs with all the nonchalance she could summon for someone who felt like they’d just been caught in the act of something illicit. Which was stupid, really, it wasn’t snooping if there was nothing to snoop.

“Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

He was making his way to the kitchen with... casseroles?

 “What are those?”

“Oh – they’re welcome gifts from Haru’s mom.”

His tone was awfully sunny. For him.

Katara of course, had no way of knowing, somewhere between three beers and maintaining a successful extended conversation, Zuko was elated.

“So that’s where you were?”

He’d placed the dishes on the breakfast bar and was now looking at them with a vague degree of hesitancy.

“...Sorry? Where to you want these?”

“Haru’s, you were at Haru’s, yeah? And bottom shelf of the fridge but I’ll do it.”

Brushing past him, Katara started to reorganise the contents of the bottom shelf.

“Yeah, that’s where I was”

“Well that’s good, you two are in the same year, you know.”

“I know.”

And there was silence.

What had she been meaning to do?

What was her conversational reserve?

“Oh, I’m sorry, by the way”

“For what?”

“For, you know – being hostile I guess – ”

She glanced up at him from the fridge, his puzzled expression prompting her to go on.

“You know yesterday, when you asked to help...?”

“Oh! Well thank you? – ”

Good, now the air was cleared, her work here was done.

“But I – _I_ yelled at _you_ , so...”

Why was he fidgeting?

“I guess, I’m sorry too.”

He guessed?

“You sound so sure about that.”

However shocked Zuko was by the coolness of her reply didn’t match half the surprise she felt.

“Well, I am sorry, is that better?”

She could hear the beginnings of annoyance building in his tone, and for some La forsaken reason, some base part of her wanted to draw that out of him.

“Because that was obviously genuine.”

“Sorry that my apologies are such a disappointment!”

“I never asked you to apologise.”

“It was implied!”

“No it wasn’t! Just like it wasn’t implied for you to come and offer to do the damn dishes!”

“That’s common courtesy! I was being polite for Agni’s sake!”

“Polite, huh? Why is it that your ‘politeness’ always ends in a yelling match?!”

“Argh! Why are you being so difficult! I’m trying here!”

“Oh – so as long as you’re **trying** that makes you exempt from blame in all of this!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“No, you’re right, it was _implied_ ”

He didn’t get to be the one who stormed away this time. Katara slammed the fridge door shut and heard bottles rattle inside. Stomping her way up the stairs she caught a glimpse of Zuko fuming at the bottom of them, when she turned the corner to her room.

That was twice now.

Twice in less than 24 hours.

What was she doing?

Katara flopped face first into her mattress – and spent a whole 30 seconds wallowing in pillowy softness, before realising she would still have to make dinner for everyone.

“Fuck!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!  
> Sorry for the wait on this one, I was swamped with uni work - but I'm back on schedule now for weekly updates.  
> Next week is a school chapter - some familiar faces will be making an appearance!

“Zuko?”, Ursa called over the door of the changing room cubicle, her voice heightened a little to reach him. The boy in question was currently trying to wrangle his way into the third pair of school trousers, with marginal success.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause, and then a breath.

Crap. There was no chance that this was going to be something pleasant or innocuous was there?

 “You like Katara don’t you? – ”

Nope. No chance at all.

“ – She’s a nice girl isn’t she? – ”

Zuko wanted to laugh, or cry, maybe both.

“ – You two are getting along aren’t you?”

How much had his mom seen?

How much did she know?

Had Katara said something?

No – he could guarantee at least that much, that wasn’t Katara’s style. No. She was more of an “everything’s fine, nothing to see here” type, as discovered the night after Haru’s, when she made dinner for everyone. When 5pm rolled around, Zuko had gone to the kitchen, figuring that that responsibility had fallen to him (and a little wanted to alleviate the bite of guilt he felt), but there she had been genially dicing vegetables, diligently ignoring his presence in the doorway, without a care in the world.  She served everyone with a genial smile, her conversation light and friendly, but whenever she thought Hakoda and Ursa weren’t looking at them, her eyes would turn steely, and the tips of her feet would crash into his shins, and it wasn’t a damn accident, as he’d thought the first and second time it happened. Not that his response was any better, he was ashamed to admit (but not so ashamed that he would take it back), his elbow crashing into her shoulder as they cleared the table, for which, of course, he apologised and she did not look impressed.

The next day Katara was home.

 **All** day.

Which meant one or two things, her classes were over for the summer (probable), and/or she was trying to exercise authority over her living space (likely). She seemed determined to take up as much time (or as much space) in the communal areas of the house as she possibly could. Despite not leaving her room till midday, she made sure to take her sweet time showering (did she really not have anything that needed doing?), and then doing Agni knows what in the locked bathroom for another 20 minutes after the water cut off. But maybe that was what she just did on her days off right? It wasn’t malicious; he was probably just being paranoid... But he still felt jittery, not wanting to leave his room through the potential danger of bumping into her on the landing, should they exit their respective rooms simultaneously, and with neither of their parents home – well, Zuko feared whatever confrontation would ensue more than he wanted to get food. Although that could potentially be an issue, would he ever be able to leave? Would he starve? Maybe he could communicate with Haru somehow and get him to send care packages between their two windows, through a series of pulleys maybe?...

After exiting the bathroom, Katara went straight downstairs and into the kitchen, Zuko had no idea what she was doing, but judging by the clanging sounds, rearranging the cupboards seemed like a likelyhood. She then spent the remaining four hours until Ursa got home watching TV.

 **LOUDLY**.

The birdbath in Haru’s garden had ripples in its water loudly. Zuko wondering if disconnecting the satellite dish through climbing out of his bedroom window and out onto the roof and just wrenching the thing off as a logical solution, loudly. Retaliation, loudly. But he still couldn’t be sure.

Then at dinner the short, sharp kicks started up again.

Zuko insisted that Katara _couldn’t possibly_ do the dishes all by herself again, he just had to help, and with witnesses present Katara had no choice but to let him – glowering from the door of the kitchen all the while, occasionally muttering (just loud enough for him to hear) that she was going to have to do them all again when he was finished. She didn’t. Zuko was nothing if not thorough. But the president had been set.

A strange war-game was established, never acknowledged by either participant, but always being played. How much could one get on the others’ nerves without ever appearing to. Bonus points if you could pull it off from another room. Double, if you got away with it with parents watching.

It had been a week since then.

At least they weren’t arguing anymore right?

But if Ursa had noticed? If Ursa knew? Surely that meant it was game over, back to extended awkward silences and conversational mine fields, and for some reason this was a far greater evil to Zuko than bare-face lying to his mother. He didn’t know how much she knew, after all, maybe he could play it off, cool Zuko, confident.

“Yeah, she’s, uh – a great kid, you know?”

He opened the door of the cubicle.

“These ones fit.”

Ursa looked him up and down for a moment and then straight into his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Well – the waist is a little loose, but I’m going to have to tuck my shirt in so – ”

“ – Zuko.”

Zuko summoned all of his courage and met his mother’s gaze.

“We get along fine. She’s a nice girl”

* * *

“This one’s an agate slice, for Sugar Queen”

“Toph, not that I mind or anything, but are all the gifts rocks?”

Toph rootled around in the striped paper bag she’d drawn Katara’s souvenir out of, before shrugging.

“You ever been to Gaoling? Trust me rocks were the most interesting things I was going to bring back – anyway! These are some pretty sweet ones!”

An impromptu meeting was being held at Haru’s, a welcome home for Toph (although not actually at _her home,_ after an intensive two weeks of her parents she wanted a break).

“Anyway, down to business.” Toph clapped her hands together, and turned in Katara’s direction – never a good sign.

“C’mon, ‘Tara, dish the dirt, how’s it been getting all up close and cosy with Sunshine?”

She waggled her eyebrows in a manner that caused Aang to almost drop the glass he was holding.

“Sunshine?” Haru sounded like he was about to laugh.

“Hey – it’s a working progress, ‘Tara?”

But Katara was worlds away, still reeling from Toph’s insinuation. As if she would... With that weirdo... Even if he did have a nice body... That was none too covered up after he came back from his morning jogs... For the first time in her life Katara had been thankful for the front facing window in her room...

“That good, huh?”

That snapped out of it.

“What? No! I was just thinking about... School, three days left everybody! I have sooo much stuff to get ready – ”

“Yeah, yeah. What’re they like then? The new roomies?”

Katara looked around the living room, desperate for a subject change.

“No one wants to hear about that! It’s boring!”

The inquisitive gazes of both Aang and Haru were trained on her. Crap.

“Actually – I’m kind of curious”

“...Me too”

She was trapped.

“Well, uh – Ursa’s great, she got a job at a pre-school, did I mention? She’s always helping me out too, she mopped the kitchen the other night, was that a load off my mind, let me tell you. Ha! And just the other day – ”

“What about tall dark and moody?”

“ _He’s not that tall_ ”

“What was that Sugar Queen?”

“... You met him at the party, you know how he is.”

“Yeah, for five minutes, **spill**.”

“There’s nothing to tell!”

“Suuuure there isn’t...”

“There isn’t, everything is fine! Normal and fine!”

Toph leaned back on the sofa, her grin split wide as if she had been told all she needed to know. Aang, meanwhile, looked concerned.

“Has something happened, Katara?”

The sadness in his tone was enough to calm her frazzled nerves, if only fractionally.

“No, nothing’s happened, don’t worry about it Aang.”

Toph snickered behind her.

“What is your problem?!”

“ _I’m_ not the one with a problem here – ”

“I told you **nothing** – ”

“ – Listen to the way you’re saying that ‘Tara, it sounds an awful lot like **something**.”

Katara’s palms were sweating.

It was true right?

It was true.

Nothing was going on. Nothing.

Not _really_.

No words were exchanged.

No capers were had.

And yet.

Their unspoken challenge, game, whatever, trying to outdo each other. Katara couldn’t liken it to any experience she’d had before, she couldn’t justify or explain it. For all that she’d played her music louder to get on Sokka’s nerves and elbowed him in the ribs when he’d greeded the sea prunes, it was always less ... vicious, than whatever this was, and definitely less drawn out. A week, and there was no resolution in sight, rather, it seemed to be building up.

She’d gone from gently kicking his shins from the opposite side of the table to moving into the seat next to him in order to get him with more force with the back of her heel.

In retaliation, his showers seemed to start even earlier.

So her music had gotten louder.

So he’d asked to help with dinner in front of Ursa and Hakoda.

So she’d “spilt” a pitcher of juice onto his lap.

It was stupid, childish and ridiculous (a sentiment she was sure her friends would echo back to her if she told them).

But it was hers.

This contest, whatever it was, it felt private, more personal than she wanted and she couldn’t let anyone share it.

“All he does is mope around all day; it gets on my nerves, that’s all.”

Haru – who had heard oddly loud music coming from the Kuruk’s in the middle of the day for the past week, knew something was amiss, but said nothing.

Aang sensed Katara’s omission, but he didn’t want another fight to start up, so he left it. It was her business after all.

Toph, who felt like she’d been cheated, grumbled a little, but resolved to wait and listen. Katara getting this worked up over anything meant that there was only more fun to come.

“OK, OK, Sweetness, I _believe_ you.”

* * *

Ursa was sat on the sofa, book across her lap, she looked like always did, like she’d floated out from an ancient ink painting, serene and composed.

Unfortunately for Katara, her presence was a forewarning of _his_.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

“Hello dear, yes we did, _eventually_ , shopping with that boy is like pulling teeth, are they all like that, or am I just unlucky?”

“Sokka loved it, but I suspect he may be an exception to the rule”

“Ah, well...”

Couldn’t they have taken just a little longer?

Katara retreated up the stairs to her room; still a little shaken up after Toph’s blunt questioning had really hit the mark, she wanted some quiet time away from the source of her turmoil thank you very much! But, no. Apparently the Ba Sing Se public transport system schedules didn’t operate in accordance to her emotional duress. Those bastards. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with him until dinner rolled around.

Placing Toph’s rock on the end of the book shelf along with her other treasures, Katara took a moment to admire her collection; prayer beads from Aang, a snow globe Yue had sent her for the last winter solstice, a set of “gold” fans in miniature with love from Suki and Sokka in Kyoshi and her greatest treasure wrapped-up in its silky case, the embroidery looking a little dirtied and worn from being clung to too often –

KNOCK KNOCK

Katara jumped to attention and answered the door automatically.

“Yes?”

Oh. Him again.

What was he doing here?

Fixing her with his constant almost glare, apparently.

“ _I need to speak to you_ ” He was trying to whisper, speaking as softly as he could, but the odd syllable would crack or catch.

 _“Why? Why are you whispering?”_ But she had joined in too.

“ _I’ll explain, can I come in?”_

He had never been in her room before.

“ _No.”_

_“What?! Why?!”_

Katara didn’t really know herself.

_“You can’t just demand to be let in, it’s my room!”_

_“Well fine, we’ll go to my room then, just be quiet.”_

_“Fine”_

Katara followed his oddly quiet footsteps on tip-toes, feeling like some how she had regained some ground, she was invading his space now, she could control this situation. This feeling lasted until the instant Zuko held the bedroom door open for her.

Her room would have been the better choice.

Zuko’s room had lost none of it’s military neatness, the bed made so sharply it looked uncomfortable to sleep on, every surface clean, still haunted by the pervasive lack of _anything_. Maybe she shouldn’t have been using Sokka as a measuring stick but it had been a week, **a week** , shouldn’t there have been _some_ dirty laundry scattered around? A jacket slung on the back of the desk chair maybe? Even the wrappers in his wastepaper basket looked pressed and orderly. It felt heavy in here, how exactly was Zuko managing to live without making any sort of impact on his environment?

Said boy closed the door behind him with a sigh. But Katara wasn’t wasting anytime, she wanted out of here as soon as possible.

 _“What was it you wanted and why_ exactly _did I have to be quiet?”_

Despite the mockery in her tone, she still found herself whispering diligently. Zuko looked at her for a moment, brow creased, then his gaze went to something in the left corner of the room as he began, now in a normal volume.

“I think we need to stop this.”

“ **You. Just**. Dragged me over here, saying we need to – ”

“No – Not _this_ this! Not this right now!”

“Then what ‘this’ are you talking about?”

He sighed, again, and brought a hand to the back of his neck.

“You know... _this_...” His free hand gestured in the space between them. Katara knew what he meant. But she was curious. Curious as to how he defined, whatever, was going on, so she asked again.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He met her eyes now. Even if it was just to glare.

“You know what I mean – with the, the dishes and the kicking... that _this..._ ”

Katara didn’t confirm or deny or really give any indication that she had heard him at all.

“So why were you whispering?”

“Because... Mom is downstairs.”

“So?”

“She thinks something’s going on.”

Fuck. **Fuck.**

“Why – uh, how do you figure that?”

“She asked about you today, like a few times, she’s worried we’re not... _Bonding_... or whatever, I think she might have seen something. So yeah” Zuko concluded weakly, looking at Katara in what could have been an imploring way, a “please say you understand me” look.

Katara was a little stuck though. Annoyed, in part, because _he_ had been the one who told _her_ to stop, it made her look like the immature one here, which she **wasn’t** , she was not. But, no, no, to give him credithe had said “we", and he did seem a little embarrassed about the whole thing, but then again wasn’t he always embarrassed when he wasn’t angry, so...

“So by ‘stop’, you mean?”

“Sorry?” Clearly he had thought his statement was the conclusion of the conversation, amateur.

“Do you mean stop altogether, or stop slipping up?”

Zuko looked like he’d had cold water thrown over him, eyes wide, Katara certainly had his full attention now.

“I – I – ”

“Look – ” Katara was getting into her stride now, she liked this game, she wasn’t losing the only stupid immature thing she had, not to Zuko, not to Ursa, not to Hakoda if it came down to it, “We don’t, for _whatever_ reason, get on, we clash, so, the way I see it, surely it’s better to get that aggression out in a manageable way, rather than bottling it up until we fight, which is far more likely to go noticed by Ursa than you showering a little earlier, don’t you think?”

His eyes were still wide as saucers, but now assessing rather than shocked.

“I – I didn’t think – ”

“Do you agree? Or not?”

“Y-yes”

“Good”, Katara walked past him to open the door, his shock induced slowness causing her shoulder to brush against his chest, which was warm. Her stride did not, did not, falter. In the doorway she paused.

“You’ll just have to get better at hiding your pained faces at dinner, they’re what’s giving it away you know.”

* * *

Zuko slumped a little after she left the room.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he could find his sister in Katara.

He shuddered at the thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been 80 years...  
> The lateness of the update is mostly due to poor planning and work on my part, but hey! Jet's in this one - he'll be in the next one too. Sorry if it feels like we go from confrontation to confrontation between these two - that'll be over soon, but I feel like, at the moment, that's the only way they know how to communicate, so I wanted them arguing A LOT. But as I say, this formula will abate - have faith!

Zuko had recently discovered he didn’t like Chemistry.

Normally, he didn’t care for it one way or the other, he took it as an elective because he could do it, and, more importantly, because he felt that there was some sort or prestige in taking all three sciences, a set that Chemistry was needed for.

Of course the attitudes and techniques of teachers varied, but at the end of the day Chemistry was made up of sets of rules, formulae and absolutes, all of which Zuko could handle.

No, it’s not that Zuko disliked Chemistry, it’s that he disliked Chemistry class – or, more specifically, his lab partner.

Jet Lau was tall and wiry. In a face too thin for dimples, his too wide grins cut jagged parentheses into his cheeks, a sharp slash of a smile that showed off his many, many, small white teeth. There were a lot of these grins. Jet seemed to employ them as an extension of his speech, to indicate pauses or emphasis.

“Li and Lau, huh? What a team.”

_Grin_

“What’s that accent? Where’d you say you moved from again?”

_Grin_

“The Kuruks, huh? I heard _Captain_ Hakoda had a new squeeze...”

_Grin_

“Gotta say you don’t often see guys as pale as you around here, hey, maybe it’s an Omashu thing, right?”

_Grin_

“Filter paper is the third drawer on the right”

_Grin_

These were also employed, Zuko was discovering, to cover up, with a guise of casual curiosity, what may be sinister intent.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tara, hey Tara!”

Katara, who was currently utilising registration to bullshit a Literature essay she _really_ had been planning to finish the night before, didn’t hear Star’s calling until she felt the business end of a mechanical pencil in her side.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

She needed to conclude her crappy essay in a way that sounded vaguely clever, so a, “Hmmm...” of acknowledgement was all Star got in response. Star usually knew the best gossip in the school, and normally Katara would have been all over whatever she had to say, Hell, it what was their tentative friendship was built on. But right now she was focused on trying to remember how to use the semi-colon correctly. Not that Star cared, she steamrollered on regardless of her unenthused audience of one.

“Is it true the cute senior is your brother?”

“Sokka left last year, Star...”

Pathetic fallacy was weather imagery right? Oh Spirits, this was poor...

“Not Sokka, the new one”

 “Huh?”

Which adverb sounded appropriately evaluative...?

“The guy with the _scar,_ y’know, hangs out with Haru...”

 _Delicately explores_ , maybe? _Tentatively explores_ – wait.

Suddenly the essay was the least interesting thing going on.

“You... you mean... are you talking about **Zuko**?”

“Is that his name? Exotic...”

Star sounded wistful, wistful over _Zuko_. Ew.

Wait, Star had called Zuko cute, _cute_ , and not even in a contemplative _‘He’s kinda... I guess...’_ way either, she had stated it like it was an established fact, like that’s what everyone thought, like they were all referring to him as _‘the cute senior with the_ scar _’_ Katara felt an uncomfortable twist in her chest.

“So he is your new brother then – ”

“ – Step-brother, and not even that actually – ”

“ – Technicalities! Would you introduce me!”

Katara barely swallowed a laugh. She could just imagine how that scene would play out –

_‘Hey **Bro** my girlfriend here thinks you’re exotic and fierce, how about it?’_

To which he would mumble and glare, and then when an appropriate amount of time had passed, he’d skulk off somewhere quiet to brood.

Actually that sounded like fun.

“Sure.”

“Really!”

“Yeah, is lunch an OK time for you?”

“Cool, ooh! How exciting!”

Katara felt a little guilty at Star’s enthusiasm – her image of a handsome, mysterious stranger with a dark past would be destroyed in 3 seconds flat, but Zuko was due to be taken down a peg. He’d made dinner the other night, and you’d think Tui herself had descended the reactions he got, it’s not like she did the exact same thing EVERYDAY or anything.

So what if it had tasted good.

Truth be told, outside of the dinner incident she hadn’t been around Zuko enough for them to fight; they both had school work and he was always hanging around with Haru and that sinister, wild looking guy, what was his name? Jin? Anyway, it had been a while, Katara wanted to have a little fun.

 

* * *

 

 

Katara was glaring at him from somewhere in the kitchen behind, he could _feel_ the bad intent pouring off her in waves. But if she wasn’t going to say anything, then he certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge it.

A dinner plate clinked as he put it into the drying wrack. Katara hissed, _hissed_ in annoyance at his audacity to make a sound, but still made no move to explain herself.

It took her until he was putting washed cutlery back in the drawer to say anything.

“That was a clever trick you pulled today” She gritted the words out from between her teeth, as if she was acknowledging something truly awful.

Zuko remained where he was, he was in no hurry to go on the offensive.

“What was? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Katara was still out of his field of vision, but he didn’t need to see her to know she was bristling with indignation at hearing the echo of her own words from weeks before.

“You know – ”

“ – No. Don’t. You just have to tell me in black and white.”

Zuko didn’t care if he sounded petulant. Or obstinate.

A few stomping footsteps and suddenly Katara was at his side, accusing finger already primed and pointed his way.

“Don’t. Mess. Around. Zuko.”

Zuko gave her the most disinterested look he could muster, which, of course, just pissed her off more.

“To-day, with Star, what the Hell were you doing?!”

“...Star?” Zuko knew exactly who Star was. Katara didn’t need to know that though.

“ARGH! My friend! The one I introduced to you!”

“Oh. Right.”

“What were you playing at?!”

“Again – the exact behaviour you’re referring to – ”

If Katara hadn’t been close enough before, she was now, one hand fisted in Zuko’s shirt front, the other now pointing a few millimetres from his chin. He could feel her erratic angry breaths fan across his face. She must have been standing on her tiptoes, or something, he reasoned, she wasn’t this tall normally, it forced him to meet her gaze in all its contorted fury, eyes bright and narrowed, cheeks flush in anger.

“Star is my friend, my **friend** , maybe you’re alien to the concept – but it means I don’t want to see her fucked around for no reason, see?”

Her voice was lower, quieter than before, but her effort in restraint was obvious the way _‘fuck’_ quaked and the grip in his shirt curled tighter and tighter.

“What goes on between us goes on between us – but don’t you **dare** drag my friend’s feelings through the mud for some half cocked ‘win’, in some _stupid game_ – ”

She sounded like she was about to cry but her eyes were still on his, intent and angry and righteously indignant.

“ – it’s childish and it’s vindictive and it’s – ”

“Against the rules?”

“Yes!” Now Katara was pissed, he thought he could just take the steam out of her argument like that, he had another thing coming, she tried to pick it back up again.

“And an – ”

“ – Would you not say, then, that we are both at fault?”

“Would you not say, by your logic, that it was against the rules to involve a third party like you did?”

Zuko’s voice was a low monotonous buzz, frighteningly quiet; Katara could feel it in his chest. She regretted getting this close.

“Was it not _taboo_ , to pull something like that in school?”

Zuko wasn’t breaking her gaze like he normally did, he was holding, gold eyes flat and cold. She wanted to squirm under this scrutiny. He really was too close.

“Surely then, it’s forbidden to force your _friend_ to mock me for you?”

That rang oddly in Katara’s ears; it was enough to dislodge her voice.

“Wait... What?”

“What impresses me is how you persuaded her, I mean, half the junior year won’t even look at me straight, let alone ask me out for a prank, you must be real _buddies_.”

Wait. What?

Katara felt her grip on his shirt loosen, then disintegrate all together.

“I’ll be going to bed now.”

Zuko’s voice, still all one tone, sounded far away, underwater.

The kitchen door closed.

The stairs creaked.

Then so did his bedroom door.

That’s what he’d thought had happened?!

Katara felt her annoyance melt away, along with what felt like most of the kitchen floor. Of course she had been pissed off with him, she reasoned, he hadn’t reacted like he was supposed to at lunch, he should have just fidgeted awkwardly and grumbled in response like he normally did, then this whole thing could have been avoided. It was all on him, really, when you thought about it. But no, he’d looked at Star and then to her and then back to Star again, and he’d smiled this cold little smile at them. Katara thought he’d figured her out. Evidently, he hadn’t. He’d drawn a conclusion, sure, but it was the wrong one and no! No! This wasn’t what she wanted!

It was him! His fault, he’d been all charming and gross, to the extent where Haru looked taken aback and Star _reacted_. And whenever she giggled and _oh stop_ ped him, he did this stupid boy laugh, and then he’d look back to Katara. Just a little but he’d look. And she’d though it was mocking her, mocking her because he’d turned the game against her. Because he was winning.

They’d left them an excruciating 20 minutes later, a phone number and a whole lot of pent up rage richer. It was a simpler time.

Now, _now_ , Katara just felt like crap. Despite the ever shrinking kernel of _‘Did he really mean that’_ doubt in the back of her head, she kept coming back to those looks over the lunch table, those _looks_. Because he wasn’t mocking her, he wasn’t mocking her at all. Those gold eyes weren’t hot and mean, they were dull with disappointment, he was _sad_.

She might just be sick.

He wasn’t supposed to be like that! He wasn’t supposed to draw those conclusions about himself and to be charming and to flirt and for it to not mean anything!

Zuko was awkward, and bumbling and short tempered.

He wasn’t supposed to be all – all – _fragile_ like that.

 

* * *

 

 

Zuko reasoned that he wasn’t really angry.

No, not angry, not hurt, just a little surprised really.

Although he shouldn’t have been because that was really stupid and he’d grown up with _the_ manipulative little sister, I mean he should really have grown to deal with this kind of thing by now, he was just being ridiculous really...

...But he’d just thought...

But that didn’t matter, because Katara was different to Azula, yes, but that didn’t make her any less manipulative, dangerous or cruel.

Just because she didn’t relish in it, just because she didn’t gain anything from it, just because it seemed like a to-and-fro, it didn’t make her his friend. He had to remember that.

Katara’s face in the kitchen flashed up, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, like she was shocked. Shocked because he’d figured her out? Probably. Probably.

He remembered other things about the kitchen too.

The line of heat of her body pressed tight to his.

Heat that must have travelled from her blood to her skin to her clothes and then through the millimetres of space between them to his clothes and through to his skin.

Katara was definitely not his sister.

But thinking about that, whatever _that_ was, brought a whole wad of spiky, sticky, uncomfortable feelings to the fore, and Zuko was not in any state to untangle them tonight.

He stared up at Sokka’s ceiling. There was a crack that ran right across the top right corner of the room, just above his vantage point on the bed. It was annoying. He resolved to sort it out when the weekend rolled around.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Zuko dreamt about a fire.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!  
> Late update is mostly due to end of term exams (my university is cruel), hope you enjoy!

Conversation with Jet was a veritable minefield of questions Zuko didn’t want to answer, his lab partner’s well aimed inquisition was just _too_ specific to be mistaken for friendly curiosity.

That’s not to say Zuko didn’t have his story straight, of course he did. He had recited the tale so many times he could tell it in his sleep, so much that the words ceased to have any meaning, but he still had to be careful. Always watching his footing, constantly ensuring consistency whilst appearing nonchalant – it was exhausting. And though the frequency of questions depleted after the first week, Jet started to get more and more precise, which unnerved Zuko to no end, not least because he had now started to hang around with him and Haru between classes too. It felt like he was closing in.

“So, Li – is that your Mom’s name or your Dad’s?”

“You wouldn’t know the Xhang’s would you? I mean they left for here from ol' Oma about five years ago, you were there then, right?”

“ – I guess that’s to be expected, so your uncle, what was he called again?”

“I hear Omashu has a huge Fire Nation population - all underground. You ever notice anything like that, buddy?”

 “Don’t get a lot of Zukos.”

Until, finally, six weeks into the term, Jet clearly felt comfortable enough to ask, in that cool, casual tone of his –

“So where’d you get that scar, man?”

Zuko stiffened.

This was not the first time he had been asked this. Obviously. Some people were just brazen, or stupid or vicious enough to ask outright. Back in Omashu he’d gotten into a fight with a kid who kept asking, back when the whole thing was still fresh. He’d won, and was suspended a week for his trouble, but nobody had asked again after that. And somehow beating on Jet just didn’t seem viable; lashing out at a guy who was already suspicious, well, he’d know he’d hit the mark.

Zuko tore the litmus paper into uniform strips.

And here, in Ba Sing Se, where his name was Li, and he came from Omashu and his scar was an accident, there was no mark to be hit.

He dipped the strips into their respective samples.

“Firework, got too close.”

“Ooh... That must have hurt.”

Jet did not sound sympathetic, not really, he sounded gleeful.

“Yeah.”

“Guess that’s why they give us fire safety talks around New Years – Ha, you’ve got to be the poster boy for _‘Don’t play with fire, kids!’_ ”

Zuko recorded the readings, _pink, blue, blue, pink_. His hands were shaking.

“Ha – yeah, I guess you’re right.”

His laugh sounded garbled and artificial, like a train announcer’s voice, but it was enough. Just by a little, Jet’s grin fell.

 

* * *

 

Katara wearily shovelled another spoonful of cornflakes into her mouth. She did not feel ready for another day.

She was in no way ready to see Star look at her phone hopefully every time she got a text, only for that expression to fall when she saw the sender. She was not ready for another dinner of Zuko’s distractedly deflated silence, or the faraway look on his face when he washed the dishes, or another frustrating attempt to apologize to which no response would be given, other than the mechanical rhythm of plates clicking.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks of this.

Nothing was resolved. No one was happy.

Well _no one_ wasn’t quite operative. Hakoda and Ursa were positively elated, and, is often the case, their happiness created a protective bubble around itself, disabling their awareness of any negative feelings, including, but not limited to the misery of their respective offspring.

The sound of a car engine cutting off in the drive drew Katara out of her revelry.

That was odd.

Ursa and Hakoda had both left for work a while ago.

As if on cue, Hakoda strode into the kitchen.

“Dad?”

Hakoda beamed as he caught sight of her, he had been doing that a lot lately, but failed to offer an explanation.

“Work?”

“A big meeting was rescheduled, so I have the morning off – you kids want a drive to school?”

 He sounded so cheery. Urgh.

“Sure, I’ll go get my stuff...”

Katara abandoned the soggy remainder of her breakfast by the side of the sink. She was halfway up the stairs when Hakoda called over merrily –

“Ask Zuko while you’re up there!”

Katara sighed in the whole body sort of way, her shoulders slumping and head lolling back a little for dramatic effect. Hakoda’s obliviousness was a double-edged sword, on the one hand, he couldn’t detect any upset between them, on the other, the rose-tinted glasses were only so strong. Anything too blatant would shatter the illusion, any action of animosity. Katara was not prepared to live in a house completely full of miserable people, so at the top of the stairs she turned right and knocked on Zuko’s door sharply.

No reply.

What was he doing? That guy was always up at the crack of dawn, she knew, the damn shower – wait, come to think of it, was it the shower that woke her up that morning? She knocked again.

“Zuko?”

Nothing.

“Zuko? Dad’s offering us a ride to school, you ready?”

No response. Weird. Whatever his avoidance of her recently, he wouldn’t just ignore a direct question like that. Maybe he had his headphones in? Katara tried a little louder.

“Zuko, can I come in?”

Behind the door there were a series of thumping noises that sounded a lot like pillows hitting the floor, followed by a weak, rasping

“...Sure, yeah.”

Katara opened the door to find Zuko, who had evidently overslept, sitting on the side of his bed, looking slightly alarmed and wearing absolutely no shirt at all. The pleasant, warm feeling Katara usually got at this sight was distinctly dampened by the off-grey colour Zuko’s skin had gone. He made to push his hair off his face, his hands were shaking, his hair wet, from, what Katara realised was a steadily sweating forehead. A moment passed and Zuko made no move to get up, his eyes were wild and unfocused, his breathing made it sound as if he’d been punched in the gut; hard, shallow and fast.

“Are you OK?”

“Mmmm... Oh!”

Trance broken, Zuko stood to attention suddenly, only to sit back down again immediately afterwards. He threw a hand over his face.

“I-I’ll, I’ll be ready in five...”

Though muffled by his palm, Katara could still pick out the quiver in his voice, she felt her assurance swell. This boy was absolutely wretched – that, she knew how to deal with.

Crossing the room in a series of short strides, Katara carefully placed the back of her hand to Zuko’s forehead. If the action was surprising to him, the fever must have dampened his reactions considerably.

“Guh?”

“You aren’t coming into school today.”

Zuko raised his head to look at her, his eyes clouded with confusion and sleep.

“Katara... what?”

“You’re sick, you’re staying home.”

He groaned, head falling back into the cradle of his hands, the dramatic timbre of the sound somewhat offset by his almost whimper at the tail-end.

“I can’t... I have work to do...”

Katara sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, secretly just a little jubilant; maybe normal Zuko wouldn’t let her near, but weak, defenceless, fever-brained Zuko would. She’d redeem herself before he’d even know what’d hit him.

“Not today. Get back into bed and under the covers, I’ll bring you up some medicine.”

He shot her a _look_ , but acquiesced all the same, groaning gently as he settled under the duvet. His glares lost all their heat when he couldn’t focus properly. Katara smiled. It was almost cute.

* * *

 

Zuko felt like he was boiling; slowly being steamed to death in a blankety cocoon.

It was too. Damn. Hot.

He wanted up and out of wherever he was, but his limbs weren’t cooperating. Scratch that, his whole body wasn’t cooperating, Zuko felt heavy, like he’d been filled with sand. Would this pass, or would he be stuck in this sauna forever? Urgh.

All of his thoughts seemed to travel past him without making any contact, their movement slow as tar. A sound, a voice, something cool on his forehead.

That felt nice.

Zuko tried to voice his appreciation, but apparently words were too complex, as all that came out was a strained nose between a whine and a moan.

The voice started up again.

He could hear its cadence and lilt, but words were indiscernible – like being underwater.

The voice ended.

Another sound.

At least his face felt a little cooler.

 

* * *

 

In the end Hakoda shooed Katara off to school, assuring her that he would mind Zuko until he went back to work. Whilst dubious of her father’s nursing skills, Katara felt comforted somewhat with the state she had left Zuko in, his fever wasn’t too severe, he’d probably sweat it out in a day with the proper care, and that was all the time she needed. After consulting with Haru, Katara had managed to get a hold of Zuko’s class schedule, and was flitting from teacher to teacher picking up the work he had seemed so worried about that morning.

Reaching the Chemistry office in the West Building, Katara knocked on the door twice, only to find she wasn’t alone in waiting. It was that wild-looking guy she’d seen hanging around with Zuko a few times, his apparent lankiness balanced out up close. He was grinning. Katara realised she was being rude.

“Uh – You’re a friend of Zuko’s, right?”

His grin got wider.

“Sure – Jet, by the way, you must be the sister...?”

Huh.

So that was how Zuko referred to her.

Huh.

“...Oh, uh, Katara.”

The overwhelming stiltedness of her reply didn’t seem to rain of Jet’s sunny demeanor.

“Big bro didn’t make it in today?”

“He’s, uh, down with a fever.”

“Shame, shame, I missed my lab partner.”

So that’s how they knew each other.

“You’re being a good girl and collecting all of his work for him then?”

The way he spoke, the smoothness of his words, unnerved Katara, and piqued her interest.

“That’s right.”

His grin spread even wider, to the extent Katara was worried it would split something.

Wait, had he just called her a “good girl”? –

The office door swung open.

“Yes?”

 Katara looked to Jet, who just held his arm out in a ‘Ladies First’ fashion – which felt patronising, was it? Or was it just because he was the one doing it?

“Was there something you wanted?”

“Oh – yes, I, uh, I need work from today’s senior Chemistry class, it’s for Zuko Li, he’s, um, not well.”

The teacher retreated back into the office and retrieved a set of worksheets. Jet looked at Katara. Why did she suddenly feel embarrassed talking on Zuko’s behalf, she hadn’t had this problem before! Maybe it was the addition of an audience, but even then it didn’t _really_ make sense. The teacher handed her the papers, turning her attention to Jet.

“And you, Mr. Lau?”

“I have some questions, about the demonstration.”

“Come in then.”

Katara turned to leave, sliding the sheets into her ring-binder.

“Oh, Katara?”

Jet had paused halfway into the office.

“Yes?”

“Give your brother my best.”

Another grin and he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Katara came home to find it empty.  Ursa mustn’t have finished at work yet. She set to work filling the kettle, Zuko could probably do with some tea, or soup maybe? If he was awake, he should probably eat something. Katara set the kettle on the boil and resolved to check on him.

“Zuko?”

She only hesitated for a second at the lack of reply this time, if he was asleep he could probably do with a new cool cloth or something, she could do that. But in her mind’s eye an ideal picture was already forming – Katara attending a sleepy, but grateful Zuko, carefully dabbing his forehead whilst he sang her praises; how wrong he was to doubt her, his unwavering acceptance of her apology, then he’d thank her for being sooo helpful –

Not that the universe would ever be that kind.

Katara found Zuko flat on his back, panting. At some point he had managed to kick off his blankets. His pyjama bottoms were still, miraculously, on, but had ridden so low on his hips that it was bordering the obscene; Katara had a front row seat to the shallow scoops of both hip bones, white skin stretched taught across them, clear and uninterrupted, save for a line of fine hair leading from his belly button down...

Katara stopped herself abruptly.

Was that the kind of girl she was? One who took advantage of vulnerable, unwell men to ogle them?

No. She was here to help.

Zuko’s face was sleeping, thank Tui, he hadn’t noticed her open mouthed assessment, but whilst his eyes were shut, they were screwed that way, his face distorted into a scowl.

He looked in pain.

Katara picked his duvet up off the floor and draped it back over him; it was only when she was peeling the cloth off his forehead that she noticed his murmuring. It must be a dream. Katara took in his twisted mouth and clenched jaw. A bad dream.

Downstairs the kettle whistled.

Katara headed for the door, she would just make tea for herself then.

“ – Mom?”

One of Zuko’s inaudible mumblings had suddenly become audible. Maybe he was waking up a little.

“Zuko?”

Katara set herself into a crouch at the head of the bed.

“...Mom?”

His eyes were still screwed shut, but Zuko had stilled a little, his head facing Katara.

“Zuko, Ursa’s out, your Mom’s not here, she’ll be back soon, do you want anything?”

He whispered something amid an exhale.

“Tea? I’ve boiled the kettle, would you like some tea?”

“...you’re lying...”

“Hmm?”

“...you’re lying...Dad would never do something like that...”

Katara froze.

She felt as if some invisible line had been crossed; Ursa had never breathed a word of her ex-husband, not that it exactly made for casual chitchat but, shouldn't he have come up at least once or twice?

Where did he live?

Didn’t he have visitation rights to Zuko? Omashu to Ba Sing Se was a four hour drive if the traffic was good, not exactly a brief trip, he couldn’t have been quiet about his own kid moving so far away. But Zuko never mentioned him either, or even alluded to his existence, not even an off-handed, “over at my Dad’s place...”

Was he dead?

That wouldn’t stop the Lis from mentioning him though.

Maybe Zuko was adopted?

No. He looked too much like Ursa.

A one night stand maybe?

Then why would Zuko mention him at all?

Maybe he was a deadbeat?

Maybe he lived abroad?

Maybe, maybe he was abusive?

Maybe...

Zuko groaned in his sleep, painfully, it cracked at the back of his throat, and suddenly his whole body crumpled into a tight ball. His breathing, which had been heavy before, now came out in sharp gulps and gasps. Panicked, Katara grabbed Zuko’s face between her hands, he was shaking.

Oh Spirits, oh, oh, had she underestimated his temperature, was this a serious illness? What, what caused this sort of reaction? Burst appendix? Gastroenteritis?

No – no – no – no – no! What did she do?

“Zuko! Zuko what’s wrong?!”

“Az – Azula, Azula”

“What?! Who?! Zuko wake up! Right now! What hurts?! Tell me!”

 Zuko’s eyes slid open, Katara could see a sliver of unfocused gold, directed to her, he leaned forward a little.

“Azula always lies”

“Zuko?”

He exhaled heavily, and all at once his body seemed to relax, his breathing, though still shallow, slowed.

“Azula always lies”

“Zuko? Are you alright?”

His eyes slid closed, and he just kept mumbling the phrase quieter and quieter.

Several seconds passed before Katara let go of his face.

It had just been a nightmare.

A very vivid nightmare.

She traversed the stairs in a half daze, for no reason that she could identify other than to get the kettle to be quiet. The word “Azula” rattling around the back of her mind like a familiar song she could remember the lyrics of, but not the tune.

 

* * *

 

By the time Ursa arrived home, Katara had already started dinner, finished her Biology homework, watched half of a T.V. show and sorted and folded the laundry. Oh, and had not gone back upstairs.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back, good day?”

“Well there was an incident with finger paints, but, other than that – ”

Ursa let out her sunny trickle of a laugh.

Katara was glad Ursa couldn’t see her face from her position at the stove, she didn’t feel like laughing at all.

“How’s he doing?”

How indeed.

“Fine, he’s, uh – sleeping, I think – I think we should wake him up for dinner, or at least something to eat, y’know – I’ve made soup, he’ll probably need to replenish his fluids – and – ”

Katara balked at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder.  She turned to look at Ursa with more shock than she probably should have been expressing.

“You’re such a good girl Katara.”

It dully registered that she’d been called that twice today.

“I’ll go and check on him, alright?”

“Mmm.”

“OK, then.”

Ursa was too... kind. Katara felt a wriggling, twisting guilt in the bottom of her stomach. Ursa hadn’t done anything wrong, to her. But her past life, and Zuko’s were a dark pit of mystery, a loose thread, and pulling it could neaten things up, clarify. Or it could unravel everything, all the hard work that went before.

Could she leave it alone?

Maybe.

But right now, Katara resolved to wait. Wait and see. Because she could be patient. She was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

Ursa tucked the sheets more tightly around her son, who mumbled a little in complaint.

“I know, I know.”

She rested a hand on his forehead. It had been a long time since he had been ill like this. Ursa hoped it wasn’t contagious; it would be awful for Hakoda or Katara to get sick too.

Ursa pushed the damp hair off Zuko’s forehead, stopping for a moment when she felt the border between hot skin and tough, shiny tissue. Yes, it had been a long time since Zuko was ill like this, and once again, she hadn’t been there to take care of him.

Ursa screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying to suppress the hot rush of anguish that had burst in her chest.

If she cried it would show. And Ursa Li had no real reason to cry.

Seeing your son a little under the weather was no reason for upset. Just like seeing Hakoda pat Zuko on the shoulder or ruffle Sokka’s hair wasn’t. Or seeing Katara talk to her Dad and brother without needing to compete, without needing to impress, because she knew they would love her regardless, shouldn’t make Ursa want to cry.

She pushed the feeling back, back, back.  Back into the past, back into who she used to be.

A few shaking breaths later and she was ready. Ursa went to her room to change out of her work clothes, then she’d go and help Katara downstairs. But part of her mind stayed upstairs, at the back of her top drawer, where she kept Azula’s baby shoe wrapped in tissue paper.

 

* * *

 

When Zuko woke up, halfway through the second day of his fever, he found a neat pile of worksheets on his bedside table, not that he appreciated this much through what must have been the second worst headache of his life.

“Urgh.”

What time was it?

What _day_ was it?  

He remembered falling asleep on Thursday night, and not a great deal else.

Agni he was disgusting, his entire body felt sticky with old sweat, his hair must have been disgusting... It _felt_ dirty, without him needing to touch it.

Shower. That was it.

Legs cramping from lack of use, Zuko half stumbled across the hall and into the bathroom, which was oddly steamy, usually when he –

Shit.

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Katara was halfway out of the shower, she had a towel, but it wasn’t much good just grasped in her hand.

She froze.

He froze.

The reality of the situation creaked into his conscious mind painfully slowly. And his brain was making no move to escape, or to excuse, too much occupied with the sight. 

Katara naked. Naked Katara.

She was the first one to right herself, wrapping up the towel suddenly, facing him with what he wished was just indignance or anger, but it was underlined with embarrassment and just a little bit of fear.

He voice, when it came out, wasn’t admonishment, it wasn’t even a yell.

“What – what are you doing?”

“I – I – I woke up, and – a-and the, the, the shower! And – ”

Katara’s eyes were wide and searching.

She didn’t think...

No.

She was worried he’d do _that_?!

No!

That he was like _that_?!

“No – no – no, but – the door”

He gestured ineffectually.

“And – and I would _never_ – ”

Katara had evidently heard enough, rushing past him and out the door, slamming it closed behind her. Zuko slumped to the floor and pushed his palms into his eyes, as if that would somehow erase the image.

It was futile.

Katara was scorched into his brain forever, in detail, the curve of her abdomen, the shape of her breasts, the dip of her spine at the base of her back, her calves, her ankles, her hands, the colour of her –

Fuck.

Zuko stopped trying to blind himself for a moment.

He was sick.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> I spent a while settling on whether to use the winter solstice or Christmas as the mid-winter family celebration type deal, in the end the solstice seemed more genuine to the East Asian lore on which avatar is based, so it's what I went with. Haru and Jet and Toph (maybe even Aang) are all making appearances next chapter, so that's something to look forward to!

In the immediate aftermath of the shower incident, Katara would concede that nothing had really changed. Zuko still kept away, still said very little, still washed the dishes with an abject reverent silence like the Gods of dishwater would smite him down for making a sound during the sacred ritual. Which in a way, she supposed, was good.

No change meant it hadn’t bothered him, great.

Because she didn’t care, why should he.

It was clearly an accident anyway, and a flustered Zuko was a useless Zuko afterall, definitely.

Any disappointment Katara felt was just as a result of the failure of her _Nurse Him to Forgiveness_ plan, definitely. It was OK, it was fine.

Katara had resolved to apply her new mantra of patience, because there was no point in worrying about something you have no control over, Zuko would accept her apologies when he wanted to hear them. She just had to wait.

Wait for forgiveness.

Wait for information.

Wait for things to change.

Yep. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

 

Everything had gone to Hell.

Zuko ran a hand over the back of his hair, _again_. His undercut had been too severe last time and he wanted to grow it out a little, but the top kept making all sorts of weird shapes when he slept on it and – _that wasn’t the problem at hand_. Nor were the equations he had to balance that were sitting at his desk neglected. Nor was the fact that the solstice was in two weeks and he had to buy presents for everyone but he didn’t know what anybody wanted and what if he got something lame and they hated it but were trapped by the convention of gift giving to be polite but their faces gave it away and would he even be able to distinguish that from a normal present opening face?

No the problem was two doors down the hall, talking and occasionally laughing to someone over the phone, Toph, maybe, or Suki? Aang possibly if he’d been committed overnight again...

But that wasn’t important! What was important was that Katara was the problem.

Except no, no. That wasn’t fair, it wasn’t _Katara_ who was making him like this, it was him, it was his being a sick fuck that had landed him here. It wasn’t _Katara’s_ fault that he couldn’t be near her. _Katara_ hadn’t ignited or encouraged anything; it was all Zuko, all on his own.

URGH!

She was for all practical purposes his sister. _His sister_. And all he could think about, _all_ he could think about was –

Zuko rested the side of his face on the desk. There was something seriously wrong with him. He was doing everything he could; avoiding someone in the same house as you is no mean feat, especially when you can’t let on to the other people living with you that you’re doing it. But it didn’t seem to matter how little time he spent with her, because all the latent desire of weeks past now felt unprotected, exposed, like a raw nerve, it didn’t matter how lightly it was brushed past, those thoughts would flare up again, loud as police sirens.

It wasn’t like before when he’d – But not like this, not fevered, not desperate, not over-thinking every touch and glance and –

The worst part was that he didn’t even hate those thoughts, not while they were happening.

And then he would remember her face, Katara’s almost frightened face in the bathroom, which always seemed to be the last part of the picture to come into focus, and he just...

Zuko let out a frustrated groan into the cool wood of the desk.

A day at a time. He had to take this a day at time. Worst case scenario, it doesn’t go away, well, he was only here for another six months before university, Zuko could avoid Katara for that long, he was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

Sokka heaved his and Suki’s luggage up onto the camp bed (already made up, he’d have to thank Katara for that later), letting out a dramatic sigh and collapsing onto the freshly made sheets of his own (again, Thanks Katara). Suki followed shortly after, with the sizable (and she argued – heavier) bag full of their presents for everyone, dumping it in front of the wardrobe she copied Sokka’s example by collapsing partially on top of him. Sokka would have grumbled more but a warm Suki draped over you was well worth getting your breath knocked out.

“Is that the last of everything?”

“I hope so – the car is emptied.”

“This brings back memories, huh?”

Sokka folded the arm not around Suki behind his neck, recalling many a rose tinted and heated afternoon spent up there.

“What? Of being rolled off the bed in the middle because you were **sure** there was more room than there was?”

Sokka groused a little but didn’t comment, which Suki saw as her cue to continue.

“Or – _or_ – having to be as quiet as humanly because Hakoda came back earlier than expected?”

Suki was slowly dissolving into peals of laughter as she recounted.

“ _Or_ – that particularly spectacular time you left the curtains open and poor Haru got an eyeful – ”

Now shaking with laughter, Suki had to stop and slap Sokka’s chest a few times for emphasis.

“Hmph. Well I suppose we’ll have to avoid doing anything then, since it always goes so horribly.”

Looking up to Sokka’s pouting face, which was determinedly directed away from her, Suki’s laughter turned into a grin. Sliding an open palmed hand from his chest up into the nape of his neck and dragging her short nails through the stubble there, Suki had to reign in her giggles as Sokka shuddered and gave her an almost shocked, open mouthed look.

“What on Earth gave you that idea?”

The queen was just as awkward as Suki remembered, swinging her leg over Sokka’s and leaning into him, one false move and one or more of them would end up on the floor – but the hot slide of Sokka’s mouth over hers, his palm firm on her lower back under her shirt, his sigh as she settled her weight over his thighs – it was just two weeks of winter break, she would cope.

Separating for a moment, partially to breathe, partially because Suki could swear she had heard the latch click.

Sokka clearly hadn’t heard anything if his open mouthed kisses down her neck were any indication, may she had imagined it...

“Sokka?”

“Hm?”

“What time is everyone getting home?”

Sokka paused with a thoughtful look on his face.

“The kids are still at school – we have ages till then”

Suki was sure it had been almost four when they’d arrived, but Sokka’s mouth was so much more interesting than that line of thought. Besides, Katara would see the car and the closed door, she knew not to barge in.

Suki was down a shirt and busy getting Sokka out of his when it occurred to her that Zuko may not be so wise.

Back to the door she heard, rather than saw it open, spinning her head round, what Suki did see was the pale boy go a very nice shade of red she would later refer to as _lobster_ , before spluttering helplessly and slamming a hand over his eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry – I – I – I – I’m so sorry!”

Retreating back faster than seemed humanly possible, Zuko attempted to shut the door behind him. _Attempted_. The school bag which he had promptly dropped in shock proved to be an obstruction. A tentative arm reached into the gap, pulling the thing free with far more force than absolutely necessary. The door clicked shut, but not before another horrified “Sorry...” was called out.

Sokka sat dumbstruck; Suki lasted until the footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs before breaking down into raucous laughter.

* * *

  

Zuko was sitting at the breakfast bar with an un-drunk glass of orange juice when Katara came home. He was also staring unblinkingly into the oven like it would swallow him whole if he willed it strongly enough. Something was probably amiss – but, but she was patient Katara, if Zuko didn’t want to tell her anything was wrong, then she would just pretend he didn’t look like his soul had fled his body.

“Suki’s car is in the drive, are they upstairs?”

“Hm.”

It wasn’t eye contact, but it was an affirmative, Katara ploughed on through.

“They must have finished up early – they weren’t due till around six.”

For some reason this caused Zuko’s face to pink, he moved his gaze to the glass in front of him.

“Yeah.”

Hmm. Zuko’s voice was quiet and embarrassed, it hadn’t sounded like that for weeks, not when he was talking to her anyway. It was sort of, nice. Maybe things were changing on their own, maybe she had a chance of getting through to him today.

“Uh, Look – Zuko – ”

 Her change in tone drew his eyes up to her, although his reluctance to do so was evident. Katara had forgotten how long his eyelashes were.

“You, ah... Well you don’t have to be emb –”

“’TARA!”

Sokka barrelled into the kitchen and subsequently his sister, making sure to ruffle the soft waves she had spent twenty minutes perfecting that morning.

“I thought I heard your voice!”

“Yeah, you sure did...”

Stuck for a second between annoyance at being interrupted at such an integral time and joy at seeing her brother for the first time in months, Katara sided with the latter, hugging Sokka back.

“It’s great to see you! You’re early! Where’s Suki?”

Katara looked over his shoulder in search of the absent girlfriend.

“She’s just taking a shower – ”

Sokka broke the hug keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“You know how driving can get you all sweaty and gross – ”

Zuko chose this as the moment to announce his presence, by choking on a mouthful of orange juice.

Zuko’s blush had escalated from light pink to crimson, a little too severe for temporary asphyxiation to be the only cause. A grin spread across Sokka’s face at this, followed by a rattling laugh that was just _beyond_ Katara, his voice had broken years ago, there was no reason for his laugh to still sound like a rusty spring.

“Oh... I’m so sorry Zuko, man!”

He smacked his free hand into Zuko’s shoulder, whose mortification only seemed to grow with the gesture, wait – what exactly had happened?

“Poor, poor word choice buddy.”

“Sokka?”

“’Tara, you’ll never guess who had a repeat of the Haru experience when he came home...”

* * *

 

Zuko grimaced as Hakoda’s bellowing laughter joined his son’s at the dinner table. The story had clearly not lost any of its comedic value by the fourth retelling. Great. When Iroh arrived tomorrow he would prove fifth time’s a charm, Zuko was sure of it.

It was a cold comfort that Haru had suffered the same fate, but his embarrassment had been limited to the experience itself, not exposed to constant revisiting of the incident immediately afterward through the dramatic stylings of Sokka.

Chancing a glance at Suki across the table, Zuko relaxed a little, she was biting down on a giggle. She was the one he was the most worried about upsetting, she’d been the – ah – more _compromised_ of the pair of them, but she seemed totally at ease, that was good –

Sokka slapped his back again –

At least somebody at this table was.

“Zuko, my boy, you just have the worst luck.”

Hakoda, still shaking with laughter brushed an errant tear away.

“How many members of our family have you walked in on in states of undress, now?”

Zuko froze and felt Katara do the same thing next to him.

Sokka, please don’t finish that thought.

Please, Sokka, don’t finish that thought.

Please, Sokka, no.

No.

“Katara is the only Kuruk to have escaped!”

Another bout of laughter.

WHY.

Sokka threw an arm over his shoulders, turning Zuko to face Katara, with mock seriousness in his frown and voice.

“Watch your back ‘Tara, it’s only a matter of time”

Then, in a stage whisper

“He’s insatiable – pffft...”

The laughter erupted from the table once more, and Zuko prayed to every god in his knowledge that the blush on his face would be attributed to being the butt of the joke again. Not because it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

So maybe she been cut short in her talking to Zuko, but – but – maybe it was a sign, maybe she was just not meant to talk to him, things would work themselves out, yeah. Patient Katara.

Right.

Cool.

It’s not like Katara had time to talk anyway, she had things to do! The winter solstice was two days away, Iroh was due that afternoon, she needed to take stock of any extra food that needed getting, get the spare quilt down from the attic, complete at least _some_ of her literature assignment, get the table extender and spare chairs out of the garage; last night they had had to make do with a stool from the kitchen and Zuko’s desk chair – and that just wouldn’t do really, would it. Plus they’d had to sit all squished together and Zuko’s thigh had kept brushing past hers accidently, which was distracting.

Seating arrangements.

Sleeping arrangements.

Eating arrangements.

Busy, busy, busy.

You’d think more people in the house would alleviate the workload, but no, in some strange version of the bystander effect, everyone in the house assumed somebody else _must_ be helping, and as a result, nobody was.

Well, Zuko washed the dishes.

In silence.

And he did make up his bed on the couch.

Without looking at her.

Not that Katara minded, she didn’t. Not at all.

_Exploring the Theme of Isolation in Wuthering Heights_ , right, busy.

 

* * *

 That evening, Iroh was escorted into the Kuruk household that afternoon supported by his nephew on one side and Ursa on the other, Hakoda followed closely behind, overstuffed suitcase in tow.

“Iroh? What’s happened?”

“ _Uncle_ ,”

Zuko hissed it like an accusation, tipping his head in Iroh’s direction,

“Put his back out trying to get his suitcase off the train without help!”

“The carriage was very crowded, I didn’t want to be an inconvenience to the other passengers – ”

Iroh was smiling, but he was a little pale, a little quieter than Katara remembered.

“Argh!”

“ _Anyway_ , these things usually work themselves out without any fuss, I’ll be alright in a few days.”

“How, how can you possibly know that?!”

In an effort to diffuse the tension Hakoda nodded Sokka over to take the suitcase.

“Geez, Iroh, what’ve you got in here, rocks?”

“Ha Ha, I never could pack lightly – remember our Lake Laogai vacation?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Mom! This is serious, stop messing around!”

“Zuko, stop clucking, I’m quite alright.”

Despite this, Iroh couldn’t suppress his wince as he was lowered onto the sofa.

“I’m with Zuko, it’s fine not going to hospital, but I don’t think you should sleep on the couch.”

Zuko looked to her and for a second after she said that, like he was so happy to have someone support him on this, that he’d forgotten it was her.

 “I agree, our bed is probably best, the sofa bed is a double, Ursa and will be fine there.”

“Of course we will.”

There was a moment of quiet as everyone felt the situation had been resolved, the only sound was Sokka trying valiantly to lug the suitcase upstairs, until Suki spoke up.

“Where is Zuko going to go?”

Everyone turned to the boy in question, who clearly had no better idea than the rest of them.

“Ah – I – I don’t know...”

Everyone had forgotten to account for Zuko.

_She_. She had forgotten to account for Zuko.

It was best for the injured Iroh not to share with anyone, and whatever the night-time activities of the two couples of the house... She couldn’t just expose him to that.

It’s not like he could sleep in the kitchen...

This was the only practical solution.

Really.

“There’s space in my room.”

 

* * *

 

Zuko wished he could have slept in the damn kitchen.

“Got enough blankets down there?”

Yes he had enough damn blankets.

Zuko was lying on the air mattress at the foot of Katara’s blanket under what must have been every spare duvet, quilt, eiderdown and throw the Kuruk’s owned. Hell, he swore he’d thrown a table runner in their somewhere. He was also wearing a shirt to bed for the first time since he was fourteen. Zuko was somewhere between manically on the edge and heat exhaustion. He was in no mood to respond to Katara’s comment.

The reasoning behind his ridiculous cocoon was birthed my a brain in total panic – he didn’t want to be alone with Katara, he wasn’t going to do _anything_ , Oh Agni no! He wasn’t a monster! But what if he said something or acted in a weird way or just... He didn’t want to be alone with Katara, because it meant all of his Katara related feeling would come to the fore, and – If he was distracted by being slowly steamed to death, he wouldn’t be thinking about them.

He hadn’t taken into account that right now Katara had an agenda all of her own, which involved them interacting.

 

* * *

 

Katara had had enough of being patient.

She wanted to talk to Zuko, just explain some things to him, then she’d be done, then he could ignore her as much as he pleased.

It didn’t hurt that it was much easier to talk to a pile of blankets than it was to talk to Zuko, and right now he was trapped, he _had_ to listen to her.

“I never put Star up to anything you know.”

Silence.

“She really just did think you were cute, I mean, those weren’t her exact words, but, that was the jist.”

Nothing.

“So does most of my year by the way, sometimes they have little talks about which one of them you’ve glared at the most...”

Still no response.

“I’m, I’m sorry you felt that way, that you felt that way because of – well, whatever it was because of, just _sorry_.”

Katara thought she maybe heard a rustle.

But the next night she could swear the blankets had decreased by at least a third.

 

* * *

 

“Do we have to watch it, Sokka?”

“Yes! It’s cultural experience!”

The whole family had squashed into the living room following what Katara secretly thought was her best solstice dinner yet. Suki, Sokka and Hakoda had piled onto the couch, Ursa and Iroh were in the two armchairs, and she and Zuko, as the youngest, had been given the raw deal of the stretch of carpet between the two sets of furniture. Sitting with their legs crossed like little kids.

“There’s probably a film on or something – ”

“No! We never watch it and we should! The Earth King’s address is an important part of the solstice here! We need to respect the customs of Suki’s people!”

“I in no way put you up to this.”

“Shhh! It’s starting!”

_Citizens of the Earth Kingdom_

Zuko focused on the image of King Kuei XIII. He focused hard.

He tried to absorb every gesture and flourish and hesitation.

Everything to distract from the hot ugly ball of guilt in his gut.

She’s apologised. _She’d_ apologised to _him_.

Katara was not Azula.

He’d miscalculated.

All this time, _all this time_ , she’d thought he was upset and that had been a cause for concern for her.

Agni, no.

Zuko started to count Earth Kings as he listened to the speech, trying to distract, anything to distract. Yeah.

Kuei I was the first Lord of the unified Earth Kingdom, famed for his skill as a warrior and a diplomat

_And in the New Year we will face many challenges as a nation_

Kuei II, though less celebrated and decorated than his sire was still a prosperous and functional king.

_But we also have many opportunities to better ourselves_

Kuei V, attempted ambitious territory grabs in the then independent Fire island states, which almost cost him his throne and his army –

Katara rearranged herself into a kneeling position, brushing his hand by accident along the way she mouthed a _“sorry”_ to him, to which he nodded.

Tong II, antisocial but ingenious, the love of his people was hard earned through the employment of sophisticated trading policies.

_I am hoping that the peace summit this summer will render much change, positive change for our people_

Kuei XI, who – who, did something with, with botany?

_The Fire Nation has agreed to enter talks this year for the first time in over a century. It has been confirmed that Fire Lord Ozai himself will be in attendance as a show of good faith. For the first time in a long time, the hope for peace is on the horizon. We see harmony once again in our time._

_Thank you._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay!!!!  
> It's just taken a little time to settle back into uni, but I should be back on schedule for bi-monthly updates (and if not at least every three weeks or so).  
> Any way, we have some Haru, some Toph, some Jet, even a little bit of Aang if you squint.  
> Enjoy!

Zuko jolted up in a panic.

There must have been a sound, there must have been.

He had woken up for a reason, there must be something.

_Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it._

It was 5:45 am, Saturday morning. He was the only one awake right now. Was the house locked?! Had he checked?!

No, no, no, no, no, no.

If someone was in the house, if someone was _here_ , it was over, it was all over.

_Wait. Listen._

_Wait. Listen._

_Wait. Listen._

But there was nothing. Just house sounds, and the blood pounding in his ears.

Zuko swung his legs out of bed, and just sat at the foot of it for a minute. When had he gone to sleep? Two hours ago? Three? A broken groan rattled around his throat. Weeks and weeks it had been like this, and Zuko was a mess. His hair was past needing a _trim_ – it was unkempt and horrible and annoying and it kept getting in his eyes. On the plus side, he might pull it all out in frustration if the insomnia persisted. At least now he was back in Sokka’s room he wouldn’t have to cope with concerned Katara asking if everything was alright?

Was he ill?

He never normally stayed up this late – was he stressed?

Sure he could have answered with stress, it was ambiguous enough in itself, but that would have surely led to a conversation on the root of said stress, and helpful tips on how to combat it – and Zuko Li had no cause for stress. He had good grades and a nice mom and a stable financial situation and it was winter break right? So he couldn’t blame school.

“No, Katara, it isn’t anything, I’m fine.”

And so Zuko got better at feigning sleep.

He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

This was the worst. This was the absolute worst. He was panicking all the time, he was jittery, he couldn’t damn well sleep, there were shadows everywhere. He’d almost attacked someone at the market for Agni’s sake, just for looking like... just for looking similar from the back. It wasn’t like last time either, when he’d had uncle and home had been a safe place to talk about it. Now, now he had to hide his paranoia and his ticks and his checking the front and back doors were locked three times a night. And they couldn’t talk about it there. They’d barely talked about it at all – a brief crisis meeting with Iroh and Ursa was had immediately afterwards, under the guise of “going for a drive”, but all that had been established was to stay tight-lipped, not to get the Kuruks involved, it was probably just a coincidence, wait for it to blow over. _Wait._

_Wait and listen._

_Wait and watch._

_Wait and see._

A light turned on outside.

Since Sokka had shifted the bed away from the wall (which Zuko did not, did not, did not want to think about) the foot of the bed was now aligned with the window. Haru’s bedroom light was on, and it was hurting his head. Staggering up and over to the window, Zuko went to close his curtains (open for observation purposes), but as he did, a hand pushed the blinds aside and slid Haru’s window open. Oh no, oh no – he did not want another tête–à–tête at this hour.Except, and his sleep deprived brain was taking a little while to process this, the person who had opened the window was not Haru. The person climbing out of the window and perching on the sill was not Haru. Their frame was too wiry and small, and their hair clearly too short. Oh Agni, who exited out of windows? Was it a burglar? _Or something worse_ , _and they were just a house too early_. Oh shit, Haru. Was he supposed to do something? He was right? What did you do?! – Cops! Cops, right? Right phone, phone!

Haru’s blinds shuddered open.

The mystery intruder was no longer a mystery, that sinister grin glinting in the full glare of the light.

Jet. Fucking Jet. Of course it wa- Wait, why was Jet climbing out of Haru’s window in the small hours of the morning? If that prick was steal- oh.

Haru was now at the window, leaning his head and shoulders out. Meeting Jet’s grin with a soft smile of his own, he tentatively cupped Jet’s jaw in one hand and angled his face up and –

NO.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

JET?!

JET?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jet was an asshole! An asshole!

Haru had better taste than that, surely?! Maybe it was just a trick of the light and it just a looked a little like Jet but it wasn’t really... cause...

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

So preoccupied with these thoughts, Zuko missed Jet (quite adeptly) traverse down the drainpipe. He also failed to notice that it had hit 5:50 am, which meant that the daily alarm on his phone was starting to go off – which illuminated him just beautifully; frozen and slack-jawed and staring out towards to Haru.

Haru, who, at the sudden flash of blue, had looked right back.

Zuko saw his expression drop in slow motion, from sleepy satiation to absolute horror. It was awful. So of course, Zuko did the most sensible thing he could think of, shut the alarm off, close the curtains, and lie back in bed and pray, however uselessly, that this was all a horrible dream.

 

* * *

 

Katara burrowed further into the cocoon of blankets she had formed on the couch. Two weeks into February and the winter only seemed to be getting colder, not South Pole cold, but still, chilly. There was nothing on T.V. she concluded, settling on another “news” report before setting the remote down. Ever since King Kuei’s solstice announcement, all anyone was talking about was the impending peace summit, and as interesting as this turn of events was, Katara knew all the newscasters were really doing was baseless speculation. No more information had been released by the Earth government, and the Fire Nation, as they were wont to do, remained in total silence. As a result, every hare-brained conspiracy was getting its own ten-minute slot.

_“And now to an interview with a man we will, for confidentiality reasons, be referring to as Mr. Vuong. Mr Vuong, can you hear us?”_

_“Loud and clear, Jin.”_

_“Now, our sources tell us that you are a Fire Nation defector, not only that, but that you also spent some time in the Imperial Court itself! Can you confirm?”_

_“Yes Jin, well, I spent my childhood living on the outskirts of the Palace Caldera – ”_

_“  – For those viewers who don’t know, that is the Fire Nation Royal Palace.”_

_“Ah – yes, well my father was a member of Fire Lord Azulon’s personal guard”_

_“The predecessor of Ozai, is that correct?”_

_“Ah, yes, although on that note – Ozai was not the crown prince while I lived there, he originally had an older br- ”_

KNOCK! KNOCK!

 Katara quickly muted the T.V. and scrambled up to answer the door to a very tired and cold looking Haru.

“Haru! Come in, come in!”

“Oh, ah – I don’t want to tread snow in all over the carpet, I – I was just wondering if Zuko was in – there’s, uh, some school stuff I need him for.”

Slightly put out that her company wasn’t desired (or, more honestly, that Haru wasn’t going to provide her with a distraction from her own school work), Katara moved to go and get him. Not that she had seen Zuko all morning, but he probably hadn’t gone out. He was doing a lot of that lately, not going out. To the extent that even Hakoda had noticed.

Post-Solstice Katara had been giddy about her progress, it seemed that Zuko wasn’t mad at her anymore, he wasn’t antagonistic or rude or ignoring her. But after a few days, when the blush started to fade, Katara noticed that whilst he wasn’t angry, he seemed agitated, not at anyone in particular, just, generally. Plus he had started to get all twitchy, all wild-eyed and checking things all the time, like the window latches and the door locks. And though none of this weird behaviour was acted out obviously, it lacked Zuko’s usual subtlety.

She rapped on his door twice.

It was worrying, Katara would have hazarded a guess at a drug problem, were it not **Zuko** , but even so, she hadn’t come up with an alternative explanation yet.

“Hm? What it it?”

The curtains were still shut in the room behind him. It was past three. Spirits his hair needed cutting.

“Uh, Haru’s here, something about school stuff? I don’t know...”

Zuko’s eyes widened incrementally and swallowed. The dark circles under his eyes were almost purple, Katara had the sudden, inexplicable to lightly run her fingers over them, to see if the skin was as delicate as it looked, if it hurt like a bruise...

“Oh – Ah, O-OK then.”

Zuko slid past her and made his way downstairs and Katara was too busy revelling in her strange feeling to remind him to take a coat.

 

* * *

 

The pair of them had been trudging along the avenue for what felt like years now, (although Zuko knew it couldn’t logically be, they’d yet to even pass number 11). The February cold was bitter – not bringing a coat had been stupid...

“So – um – well – ”

Haru’s voice was a little shaky with more than the cold. Zuko spared a glance at his looking-at-the-ground-whilst-not-saying-a-word partner, he was keeping pace, but his ears were pink, his cheeks too she sounded like he wanted to cry.

“OK, uh, let’s just stop for a second OK?”

Zuko paused next to the bus stop bench and gestured to it. Somehow, both talking, maintaining eye contact, and walking were all too much to be coping with. Haru only seemed happy to oblige, sitting down heavily, he started staring at his hands, clasped in his lap. Zuko just waited. He knew not to take the lead in this particular conversation. The silence stretched out between them.

“The thing about, about what you – you saw – ”

Zuko tried his best to look encouragingly over at his friend, though he sensed it wasn’t coming across that way.

“I- It would just... I’d really appreciate you not saying anything to my parents...”

Huh. That didn’t scan right.

That didn’t mean...

Haru’s forgetful Dad and thoughtful Mom – that they were both –

“Zu – ?”

“ – T-they can’t do that!”

Haru startled a little at this outburst, not that Zuko noticed, his eyes bright and face anguished.

“The- Your, your parents need to accept you! However you are! You’re still their child! You’re still important – you- ”

Suddenly catching up, Haru almost wanted to laugh at Zuko being so uncharacteristically zealous, he would’ve done, had his friend not seemed so upset by the whole thing.

“Hey! Zuko, don’t worry – my parents are cool, they don’t care, it’s just Jet they don’t like...”

Zuko rapidly deflated.

“They think he’s trouble.”

“Can’t say I disagree”

“I know, I know he’s not the friendliest, Hell, he can be a xenophobic asshole when he wants to be, and mean, and possessive and jaded – ”

Zuko shot him an unimpressed look from the opposite end of the bench.

“But, _I_ like him. So there. And I mean, it’s not like its anything serious anyway...”

Zuko gave a begrudging grumble, just a little bit happy that Haru was being more assertive, though that was the only positive thing to come out of this situation.

The air cleared between them, Haru decided to probe a little further, it was so rare to get Zuko onto the subject, he knew he couldn’t waste this opportunity.

“Have you never had a problematic crush before?”

“Aren’t crushes just problematic in general?”

“No, y’know, you’ve never liked someone you know you shouldn’t?”

Zuko looked away from him for a moment, before rasping out a quaking laugh.

“Hahahahahahaha... no.”

“ **Really?** You don’t sound so sure.”

“...no.”

Haru sensed his friends increasing twitchiness, it wouldn’t be long before he insisted on switching topic. But if he could just push it a little further...

“Have you had _any_ crushes before?”

“Well yeah.”

“There anyone you like right now?”

Zuko did nothing but unevenly swallow air. Bingo.

“N-no, none right now, anyway! Are you coming over at New Years?! Ah – Hakoda said the _‘usual suspects’_ were coming and I guess that includes you and your folks, but, um, in case it didn’t then I could invite you – y-you know?”

“Yeah, I’m going, Toph and Aang too, you remember?”

Haru had a theory. He was still piecing it together, but he found himself torn between respecting his friend and his privacy, and wanting to see how much Toph was going to lose it when he told her.

He could always decide at New Years.

 

* * *

 

The kitchen was quiet as Katara tried to make a dent in her Biology reading. With Hakoda and Ursa party shopping, the only sound was the shower running overhead and the occasional squeak of her highlighter.

_Lens, retina, optical nerve, rods... cones... neurones..._

If it wasn’t a drug problem, then what was it? Was he ill? Paranoia and agoraphobia seemed to point in that direction – what even was that though? Katara’s psychiatric wisdom was exclusively limited to dangerous psychopaths in prime-time dramas – and Zuko didn’t seem like he was about to go on a killing spree. More like he was afraid of being the victim of one.

Weirdly, Ursa didn’t seem all too worried about this behaviour. Although Zuko had been subject to a couple of looks, when his baseless tension became super obvious, but these were less concerned and more... reprimanding? Did that mean that this was something that happened often? Like, the seasons change and Zuko goes strange for a while, nothing out of the ordinary.

Unless.

Unless she knew why he was acting like this, and didn’t want anyone else to know? Maybe, maybe this had something to do with azula? With their past? Not that that did anything to explain the timing, it seemed to have been building up ever since the Solstice...

“Oh! Sorry... you’re working, I’ll come back.”

Katara looked up from a textbook to a freshly showered Zuko loitering in the doorway, one hand fixed to the side of his head in order to keep his hair out his face.

He really did look tired.

“Don’t worry about it, you need something?”

Suddenly sheepish, he mumbled something undistinguishable.

“Sorry? Was Haru OK? You finish the work?”

“Haru’s fine, yeah, he’s coming tomorrow as well...”

Zuko trailed off into silence. Huh, he must have decided whatever he wanted wasn’t for her ears then. Whatever.

“Want me to dry your hair for you? You’ll make yourself sick walking around with wet hair in this weather.”

OK, maybe she was being passive aggressive, but they’d been getting along fine; he could cope with a little teasing. It’s not like she would actually make good on that offer, not that he’d even accept it, not that she cared...

“I-I-I’m fine, thanks”

Making him uncomfortable was far more fun than it had any business being and the fact that he was susceptible to it took very little away from her enjoyment.

“But – um, ah, on that note, actually – _doyouhaveanyideawherethescissorsare_?!”

Zuko seemed to recognise his statement as incomprehensible the moment he said it, not that he was repeating anything in a hurry. Eyes and mouth screwed shut at the impact of embarrassment, it took him a few seconds and then, in a far quieter voice than before –

“Do you know where the scissors are?”

* * *

 

How had it ended up like this?!

_This was the fucking bedroom thing all over again._

HOW?!

He couldn’t move at all, or react.

He kept trying to imagine that he was somewhere else – but every time Katara’s voice would drag him back to the reality of the situation.

Why did she have to keep making conversation?!

_Because of course she would. Because this was a totally normal platonic thing that platonic friends did for each other. Because only sickos could derive anything else from what was happening here._

Having Katara’s hands running through his hair, up the nape of his neck, pulling it just slightly to get him into a better position...

Agni, fuck.

 _She_ asked _him_.

There was plenty of room for escape, plenty! Why didn’t he just say no?!

_Because he didn’t want to._

_Because he wanted this._

_Wanted to feel this._

_Regardless of repercussions._

AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Katara had no idea, no idea, and that just seemed to make it so much worse...

 Fuck.

* * *

 

Zuko was biting his lip again. Was she hurting him? Surely he’d say something if she was. It was true she’d been delighting a little too much in the feeling of his hair, had she nicked him with the razor?

Zuko had been silent throughout, sometimes providing ‘Hmmm’s and ‘Uh-huh’s when the situation called for it.

Was it that wierd? It wasn’t that wierd right? She’d done it for Sokka all the time (a wolf-tail wasn’t exactly low maintenance), and Aang if he asked, and even Toph once... But then again, she touched them casually all the time. She and Zuko had barely touched since they met. Seen each other naked, yes, but never hugged or – Not that Zuko seemed like much of an instigator in that respect, he’d gotten hugs from his uncle and mom, shoulder pats from  Hakoda, elbows in the ribs from Sokka, but could Katara recall any occasion where he’d been the one to reach out? Maybe he hated it. Plenty of people did.

She dusted off the back of his neck and moved round his front to check the sides, not missing his closed eyes or the balled up fists on his thighs.

He just didn’t seem like the type.

“Hey?”

Katara settled into a half-crouch so she could be face to face with Zuko.

_“Could you just look at me for a second?”_

She was whispering for reasons unbeknownst to her, other than, it just seemed to fit the mood. Eyes springing open, Zuko seemed to balk a little at the proximity, but he did as he was asked.

Katara slotted her fingers into his hair, her palms resting firmly on his temples, she pulled just slightly...

_“W-what are you doing?”_

Whispering must be catching; Zuko had breathed his words out.

_“Just checking that the sides are even.”_

Katara knew she was too close to tell. She hoped Zuko didn’t. His hair was _so_ soft, and his eyes were locked onto hers and brighter than she’d ever seen them, and his breaths were broken and ragged, and his bottom lip was just a little bit bruised from where he’d been worrying it between his teeth. She wondered what his expression was; she was too close to tell.

Releasing the left side, Katara ran her hand up the back of his neck, just gently, just barely.

_“K-Katara?”_

If he didn’t want to do this would he do something? Or was Zuko just that kind of awkward where he didn’t feel like he could protest? Could she really risk that? Risk doing this without his consent?

“KIDS!!!!!”

Katara let go of Zuko and got off her haunches, but for a second afterword, neither of them looked away. But only for a second.

“Get out here and help with the bags!!!”

 

* * *

 

“Sunshine, get me a drink.”

“No.”

“C’mon, don’t be stingy, it’s New Years!”

“Get one yourself.”

“I _can’t_ , Mom won’t let me.”

“Too bad then.”

“C’mooooooonnnnnn...”

Toph elbowed Zuko in the ribs ineffectually; today’s hiding place was much more flexible, having both the Kuruks’ entire bottom floor and illuminated garden to choose from. The majority of the guests had opted to be outside, so the low-traffic living room had been selected (it had the best chairs). Zuko, however didn’t seem to be in a particularly festive mood, he was frostier and sharper than Haru had ever seen him, and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerve, not that Toph paid any heed to that. He and Aang on the other hand, were just a little bit more uncomfortable, as they watched him down another drink.

“Uh... You got your hair cut!”

Haru tried enthusiastically, Aang caught on and followed suit.

“Yeah! It looks good! Sharp!”

Nothing bad could come of telling someone their hair looked nice right?

...Wrong.

A shadow passed over Zuko’s face as he stood up.

“Drink.”

“Get one for me Sunny, go on, no one would notice...”

But Toph’s cajoling was ignored as he marched off to the kitchen for what must’ve been the sixth time by Haru’s count, and he’d gotten there at 10.

What had happened in the day since he’d seen him to switch Zuko’s mood this much? Sure he’d been a little more anxious since winter break, but –

“Geez, what crawled up his ass?”

“Toph!”

“It’s true and you know it, Twinkletoes.”

It couldn’t have anything to do with...

NO. No way.

Looking over his shoulder to check that Zuko was definitely out of earshot, Haru beckoned the other two to learn in closer as he began –

“You can’t say anything! But the other day....”

 

* * *

 

“Oh! Hahaha! Always a good one, Bumi, you get me every time!”

 Katara forced out the most genuine laugh she could muster, the cabbage merchant gag really did _not_ improve with retelling. Somehow she had been relegated with the delightful task of doing the rounds amongst the elderly guests, to check they had drinks and snacks, but mostly to provide them with someone to tell anecdotes to. It’s not like she even had any prep to do (snacks and booze had been the official menu for the night, if she was allowed one night off, it was going to be New years) She should, by all rights, hanging out with her non-octogenarian friends, drinking the night away... Except she couldn’t. And she damn well knew why.

All the novelties of living with Zuko; Katara had convinced herself they were harmless.

Because it was.

Or maybe it _had been_.

Finding someone aesthetically pleasing wasn’t a proposition.

Appreciating their hands and voice and face and body as attractive – you did that with strangers when you people watched! It didn’t mean anything.

Wanting to make sure someone was well-fed and healthy and getting enough sleep, she did that with _everyone_.

And – and wanting to tease someone, wanting to argue with them, get under their skin, make them blush because of you, stutter because of you... Totally platonic. Just because Katara had never wanted to do those things to anyone she was friends with didn’t mean anything, other people did that. Yeah, other people.

Trying to kiss him was a mistake.

A mistake.

Nothing else, certainly not _that_ , of course it wasn’t! It was just... Proximity – proximity and hormones. Yeah, yes. Zuko was just a vent for that because he was there. She would have done the same thing to any beautiful person she’d been in such close proximity with. Yeah. Yes.

But Zuko was a bad choice for that. A bad, bad choice, awful really. She needed an outlet that was disposable, someone unconnected that she could just mess around with, no strings attached.

Definitely, definitely. That’s what she needed.

Yeah.

Katara busied herself collecting empty glasses to the kitchen, when a voice from the fence behind her early made her drop them.

“Big brother not out here?”

The lab partner. Leaning against the low wall that divided their garden from Haru’s, his half chewed cigarette and casual pose suggesting there was nothing amiss about loitering in stranger’s gardens... In the dark... When they weren’t home...

“No, he’s not. What exactly are you doing over there?”  

“Came to see Haru – but evidently – ”

Jet’s eyes flicked up to her house.

“ – He’s out.”

“...Surely you should go back home then?”

“Nah. I think I’ll wait a little while.”

He was grinning that stretched grin.

“That dress is pretty.”

 

* * *

 

Zuko had had enough.

Enough to drink.

Enough of talking.

Enough of standing upright.

He rubbed the side of his face into the carpet.

If someone came in now, he wondered, would they just assume that the side of his face they could see was the same as the other? Would they think he was normal all-round? All round normal, he laughed at that. Although it seemed a lot less funny as the noise rang out in the quiet.

He was definitely upstairs because it was dark, and that this wasn’t the bathroom, he smacked the carpet affectionately. Other than that it was a mystery, and not one he cared about solving.

His drunken brain had resolved everything into 2D, and things didn’t confuse him, or hurt to think about.

“No-one’s coming to get us... there’s too many walls in the way... pfffttt... even Azula can’t see through walls...”

Noise suddenly flared up outside – was it a new year now? Oh no, that meant that fireworks were soon and he didn’t want that, they were too loud and too hot, they were D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S. Pfffftt. Maybe he should be a poster boy – did they make plenty money?

The familiar pop-popping started up and Zuko forced himself into a sitting position, so he could get something to cover his ears, standing, however, didn’t seem to be on the cards right now, as two attempts just had him stumbling back down, and not exactly quietly.

“...Zuko?”

“Shhh!”

It was her and he didn’t want her to see him right now, he was flat, he was 2D and – and she was very much not those things.

“Why are you in here? Are you OK?”

Zuko chanced a look up at her, it was no good, she was beautiful in the dark too – and he could hear her voice much more clearly like this.

BANG! P-POP-P-POP-P-POP! FWHEEEEEE!

Oh no.

Not the screaming ones – they were the worst, and he’d forgotten to look for an ear cover – it was just... Too many things.

“It’s too loud – it’s too – too much, help me out over here, help me keep it out...”

Had he been coherent enough? Did she understand?

“OK, Zuko, OK”

Her hands joined his over his ears to keep the sounds out. He could feel the buzz of her words, but he couldn’t discern their shape. Katara was just warm. Warm and close.

“Don’t leave for now, please?”

Zuko opened his eyes long enough to catch Katara’s nod. He missed her tears though.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took soooo much longer than expected, sorry about that!  
> The feedback from the last update was amazing! Thanks to everyone who commented or kudos'd! It's always very encouraging to hear what people think :)

“What even is a ‘mini-break’ anyway?”

Zuko muttered darkly. They’d somehow managed to choose the cart with the squeaky wheel, _again_.

“It’s a short holiday that couples go on.”

Ursa perused the cereal aisle carefully, occasionally glancing to Katara’s list.

“Well I’ve never heard of them...”

“Of course you haven’t.”

Her tone was airy and calm, but Zuko didn’t miss the edge of annoyance creeping in. And that annoyed him.

“Are you really sure _now_ is the time to go gallivanting off?”

Ursa deposited a box of granola into the cart and carried on to the meat counter without missing a beat.

“Visiting Hakoda’s mother is hardly gallivanting Zuko – and why would _now_ be different to any other time? Why not _now_?”

He had to suppress a cry of frustration.

She. Knew. Why. Not.

“Oh I don’t know! Maybe the weather in the South Pole isn’t favourable this time of year? _Or maybe it’s that the peace summit is in a couple of months?_ Or hmmm... Maybe – ”

“Zuko, will you give it a rest.”

She didn’t shout. Ursa never shouted. But she was serious. She meant it. And it stung. It hurt, because he didn’t want to annoy her, he just wanted her to _see_ damn it!  That this wasn’t sustainable, that they couldn’t just – just –

“You can’t just pretend that nothing is happening!”

“Nothing is happening.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t Zuko. We are a nice normal family, we go to school, we go to work, we come home, we have dinner, we host parties, we talk to our neighbours and sometimes, just _sometimes_ we go on mini-breaks to visit our boyfriend’s mother. Do you understand?”

Ursa paused at a jar.

“Now Katara just wrote ‘sea prunes’, does she usually use pickled or dried?”

Zuko had no idea.

* * *

 

“ _Tara! Taraaaaaaaa!_ ”

Katara begrudgingly looked up from her note-taking.

“ _What Star?_ ”

This was supposed to be self study; just because they were seated near the back didn’t mean Miss Dee couldn’t hear them.

“ _Are you going to Haru’s?_ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“Haru’s! Haru’s!”

Star gestured emphatically. A glare from the front desk made the pair of them turn back down to their work.

“ _Of course I’m going_.”

A moment’s pause, then with a valiantly contrived lack of interest –

“ _Does that mean_ he’s _going to be there to?_ ”

“ _Probably – they’re pretty close._ ”

There were just the sounds of pens scratching between them for a little while.

“ _Word is his parents are going to be out that night – it might get pretty wild..._ ”

“ _As wild as the middle ring gets –_ ”

“ _Hey! Chang Feng’s 17 th remember? Someone got stuck _on _the roof – the police even came –_ ”

“ _Probably because his Dad is the Chief of Police –_ ”

“ _Technicalities! Anyway – it’ll be fun, what’s your curfew situation?_ ”

“ _Non-existent, Dad and Ursa are on vacation that weekend._ ”

“ _Cute! I’ve been told I must, **without exception** , be home by 11 – which isn’t happening._”

“ _Who’s going? Do you know?_ ”

“ _Well there’s Chang and his group, and Lili mentioned it in Citizenship –_ ”

“ – _Which means that Gin will be going_ ”

“ _Naturally and a few of his friends too, and Lao is probably going to be there with about half the senior class, like uh – d’you know Jet? Tall and needley looking, he’s going...”_

But Katara missed the next part. She kept flashing back to the weird New Years encounter, not that that was the strangest thing to happen that night but still... She’s seen him a few times in the month that had followed, just for split seconds and he’d always cock his head or send her a half-hearted obnoxious salute, it was annoying sure, but she found herself liking it a little? Well, she had resolved that she should find another point to focus her frustration on, and the candidates weren’t exactly amassing in their thousands. What had happened with Zuko that night didn’t change anything. It didn’t. In fact it reinforced the fact that she should stay away from him, Zuko was – he was too – and their relationship was too too important a commodity to risk of some stupid, misguided, probably unrequited teenage crush. It would put Hakoda and Ursa’s relationship at risk, it would put their living situation at risk, as well as the financial ramifications. Katara wasn’t stupid like that. She wasn’t selfish like that. And it was weird right? Wasn’t it weird? He was practically living as her brother for Tui’s sake! So weird... And gross and quasi-incestuous to boot. Jet was external, unattached; going after him wouldn’t hurt anyone, and better yet it would stop her unhealthy temporary insanity when it came to Zuko. She just needed a fling, just to get it out of her system, then everything would be right as rain again. Great. OK.

“Tara? Tara are you even listening?”

“ _I_ am listening Star, and unless you are sharing studying tips with Miss Kuruk, I suggest you quieten down.”

* * *

 

 Shit. He’d lost Haru again.

Zuko pried himself off him vantage point on the stairs and started to scan the living room. Someone, he’d forgotten who (it was a girl though) had put him on Haru watch, somewhere between the guy’s second and third attempt to pull out all of the roof insulation. And now he’d lost him. Making a slightly stumbling journey into the kitchen, Zuko reasoned that this job should not have been his responsibility – surely the _boyfriend/not boyfriend_ could have been on duty? BUT NO – the only time Jet could have had any constructive use he wasn’t there, he’d fucked off somewhere a while ago.  Actually, Zuko thought as he pretended not to see Chang and Lili making out over the sink, said absence could have been what had encouraged Haru to drink most of his birthday presents on sight – not that he hadn’t helped a little.

This – this was unreasonably difficult. There were too many fucking people and it was too dark and too loud and he hadn’t had this much to drink since New Year’s (at least he hadn’t passed out before midnight this time – that’d been embarrassing).

Find Haru. Just find Haru. If I was Haru, where would I hide...

A shrill clattering sound echoed from upstairs.

Well Fuck.

Zuko rushed back upstairs and into Haru’s parents’ room – where two mystery shapes were doing... something.

“ – Sorry.”

Was this going to become a thing? Could he not avoid walking in on people? Seriously. Zuko shut the door behind him. That left – Haru’s room, the guest room and the bathroom. Well done Zuko – not even checking the guy’s own room first. Rushing along to the end of the landing, he paused at the sound of someone... crying? coming from inside. Tentatively opening the door, Zuko saw a very strange scene playing out; Katara’s friend Star and a couple of girls he knew from Physics were all glued to the far wall looking very pale, whilst a laughing Haru was kneeling in what looked like the remains of his bedroom mirror.

“What the Hell happened here?”

 After a few seconds of silence, one of the Physics girls (Pi?) elected to speak up.

“We were talking and he – he just – ”

“ – lost it.”

Star was talking now. She’d had a haircut since he’d last seen her, it looked nice, not that that mattered right now.

“Shit. Haru? Haru?”

Zuko crouched down as carefully as he could, hearing the fragments of glass crunch under his weight, putting a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder which caused him to tip his head up to him for a second.

“Are you OK? Are you hurt? ...shit.”

Haru’s hands were balled up into fists, his knuckles split and bleeding.  At least the unsettling laughter had come to a stop.

“I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Star again.

“Thanks.”

The other two filed out after her without a word. After a minute or so the music shut off. Zuko sighed, looked like the party was over.

Haru’s head was still dipped, his hair fallen across his face, Zuko couldn’t read his expression.

“Why’d you break your mirror, man?”

Expecting silence, he started a little at Haru’s croaky response.

“I – got annoyed with myself – Ha!”

Haru looked up at him properly now, wearing a thoroughly defeated expression.

“I – I am so s-stupid...”

He lurched a little and fell onto Zuko’s shoulder. He was shaking. Filled with the uncertainty of not knowing how to comfort his friend, Zuko settled for a pat on the back and a limp

“No you’re not.”

All the while he was nursing a growing uneasiness that this was inextricably linked to a certain absent _not boyfriend._

* * *

 

 “So, the South Pole huh?”

What was she doing?

Jet ran his fingers along the spines on her bookshelf.

“Are any of those unsavoury rumours about down there true?”

What was she actually doing?

He turned round to face her. The lights were off – but the streetlight pouring in glittered in his eyes and teeth.

“Give me a ‘for instance’.”

OK – she knew what she was doing, _exactly_ what she was doing. Maybe that was the problem – she had thought about this too much.

“Oh – I don’t know, like you have go tiger-seal hunting as a rite of passage...”

He was handsome; he was very, very handsome. And older. And just on the right side of sinister.

“...Or that girls use whale bone to pierce their ears and – ”

He was coming towards her seat on the bed now. This was definitely happening.

“ – Other places...”

The bed dipped next to her. The fabric of his jacket sleeve made strange friction with her bare arm.

“Lies and slander, all of it.”

His eyes were dark and interesting, but not warm or gold...

STOP IT. STOP THAT.

“Oh really?”

His breath was hot on her neck. And his voice was so close that the sound blurred, her blood was loud in her ears – it could have been anyone talking – it could be someone else talking.

“Don’t believe me?”

Katara tried to slide her hand up his side confidently, but she was sure he could feel her quake, his face gave nothing away.

“I’d be happy to prove it to you.”

* * *

 

Zuko slumped against the closed door.

After cleaning up and putting Haru to bed, he’d done his best to show everyone out. Hell he’d even started clearing beer cans off the floor before he reasoned that it was something he could come back and do tomorrow.

It was now, by his phone’s clock, 4:26 am and he was about to keel over. Having half a mind to just fall asleep right there in the doorway, Zuko hauled himself up, starting a clumsy, drowsy amble to the stairs.

He was three steps from the top when a strained female gasp came from down the hall and washed all of his tiredness away. It made the hair on the back of his neck for a second before he realised, Katara! Katara must be home! He hadn’t seen her out of Haru’s so she must have left sooner. Nothing to worry abou–

“Ahhh...Ahh...Hmmnn!”

what.

WHAT.

Was he hearing Katara – ? OH AGNI, OH NO, OH NO, OH NO –

“Ah – Ah – ”

He had to leave – RIGHT NOW – he’d sleep at Haru’s, he’d just –

“ _That good?_ ”

 

 

It was hissed.

It was whispered.

It would have been barely fucking audible to anybody fucking else and he was **just about to leave**. And that was not Katara’s voice.

Zuko knew, he _knew_ whose voice that was.

He felt something ooze open in his chest, dark and hateful and spreading like an oil spill.

He couldn’t go to Haru’s now. He couldn’t sleep on his floor _knowing_ –

He needed out, he needed air, he needed... Just something! Something else to think about!

Zuko made his footsteps quiet as he left, thoroughly hating how much that gesture seemed like acceptance.

* * *

 

The faucet screeched a little in strain as Katara turned the water up as hot as it went.

This had to be a faux pas, showering this soon.

Her shoulders stung a little when the spray first hit them.

Then again, his leaving five minutes after was probably one too.

She dragged the sponge over her skin in a punishing scrub.

Was any of that even applicable in this scenario?

Katara stopped her frantic cleansing for a minute and tried to breathe.

It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t. In fact it was good – if she could just – She’d had an itch to scratch and Jet had helped her out, and not done too badly for himself in the process – But it was just...

Maybe this was normal, a come down from the high of finishing. Maybe it was always like this. Maybe she was just tired.

Katara turned the water off and quickly towelled herself dry. She should just go to bed, everything would be fine tomorrow, things just seemed worse at night. She should just lie down and –

Fuck! She’d have to change the sheets. Katara was not in any kind of mood to navigate the linen closet right now. Couch it was. Wrapping up in her bathrobe, she headed for the stairs. The heat of dawn was just seeping in through the bathroom window, but the landing remained blue and dark. The emptiness was a little creepy, but peaceful too. The noise from Haru’s had stopped... Shit – Did that mean?! Katara padded past the top of stairs to Zuko’s bedroom door and pushed her ear up against it. Spirits, if he’d heard _anything_ – she hadn’t even closed her door properly – Oh no, Oh no – But the room remained silent, she couldn’t even hear sleeping sounds, Katara steeled herself as much as she could before entering –

“Zuko?”

No Zuko.

Had something happened? Oh, wait, Haru’s, he was probably at Haru’s, of course he was. Panicking for a second at the sudden overwhelming feeling of being totally alone, Katara ventured further into the room, shutting the door behind her.

When they’d first moved here it had only been a few months after Mom had died. Hakoda had had to leave the South Pole, every store-front, every glacier, every tuft of Arctic grass had reminded him of Kya and Katara had wanted to stay for the exact same reason. She had made herself hate their new house, hate their new school, hate Ba Sing Se, hate the Earth Kingdom, hate everything that wasn’t home.

Following one particularly explosive tantrum and making threats as heavy as an eight year-old could, Katara had refused to sleep in her new bed. Hakoda, having given up weeks before trying to reason with her, left her to work out her annoyance on her own. After much exhaustive crying – it had been Sokka who had scooped her up and let her sleep in his bed instead. He hadn’t even yelled when she’d hogged the covers or wiped her nose on his pillow.

This wasn’t the same bed as back then, it didn’t even have the same occupant, but all the same, to Katara it felt like a source of comfort, a reminder of that time. The duvet was pleasantly cool as she slipped under it. Her own bed probably smelt of sweat and other less palatable evidence of what she and Jet had done. Zuko’s sheets were grey and starched enough that they crinkled a little when she turned. It was forgiving. However stupid it was, Katara felt a little bit absolved before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Conceding that it was too early for anything to be open in the middle ring, Zuko had trudged right across town to the working district, his mind working furiously at odds with his sluggish half-conscious, half-drunk body. Every so often he would take a breather and stop, his eyes dragging shut and _that_ voice would hiss across the darkness. _His_ voice – that fucking asshole!

Zuko did not want to confront the ugly soup of feelings swirling around inside him, so he walked and walked and walked until he found an appropriately depressing 24 hour cafe.

The 10 yuan he’d stuffed into his pocket hours ago was reduced to 8 in exchange for a cup of coffee that looked about as grim as it tasted. Collapsing into an empty booth Zuko let his face rest against the window – it was never a sensation he could get used to, the way the cold of the glass would stop and start again interrupted by planes with no feeling at all.

He still hadn’t been getting enough sleep, the last eight-hour stretch he’d gotten had been at New Year’s and even then, he didn’t think passing out counted. But at least he’d missed the fireworks, Agni knows how he would have coped with them in the state he was in, if his current method of coping was anything to go by, not well.

Zuko wrapped his hands around the cup and felt the warmth seep into his skin. It was light now, but he didn’t want to check the time, that would give him a time-frame, make things concrete and then he’d have to start to think about going back. And on top of everything else, he could feel himself start to sober up properly. Urgh.

It had been a long, long night.

* * *

 

 OK – it had gone 11; it wasn’t unreasonable to go over now right? She should be going over to help clean up anyway, totally, it wouldn’t be weird at all, she was a friend _and_ neighbour, she could turn up any time she wanted really...

But anxiety still had Katara stuck in the living room.

After a couple of hours of warm, dreamless sleep Katara had woken up to a still cold, still empty house. She’d tackled the sheets first, washing everything, even the underlay and pillow cases (which had escaped any of the damage). Then she’d vacuumed her room, then the whole of the upstairs, she’d put away the dishes, dusted the bookshelf, cleaned the dining table, sorted everyone’s laundry and put it into little piles outside their doors, washed the shower head and screen and the bathtub. And now, it was 11:07 am, and Katara had run out of distractions.

She wanted to see someone, anyone, just a point of reference to prove that the world hadn’t shifted after last night. That everything was still OK, that everything was still normal – but no one was damn well there! Hakoda and Ursa would be gone until at least dinner time, Star wasn’t replying to her texts, she didn’t want to call Suki or Toph or Aang for no reason at such a wierd time, which left Haru’s...

She’d call! Just in case they were both still asleep. She’d call and then she’d go over there. Yeah. Good plan.

* * *

 

The number 17’s yappy poodle-monkey clearly didn’t understand the extent of Zuko’s hangover as he walked past. Were he not such an upstanding member of the community – the creature would have found itself silenced, permanently. Going by the obnoxious brightness of the sun it must have been somewhere around midday. Zuko had no way of checking the exact time, having run his phone battery down reading “TOP 10 ______ !” lists online in an effort to empty his head. His three cups of coffee subsequent to the first were doing their job of keeping him from falling flat on his face, but it was a close call. He probably should have gone for a fifth. Zuko turned the corner to their street, catching sight of the Kuruk house made him want to run away, he would have done, were it physically possible. The ugly twisting feeling returning, Zuko gathered himself together and headed down the street.

* * *

 

Katara was honestly on the verge of calling Ursa when the door clicked open.

For a second she was stuck on total elation at not being alone in the house anymore. That was, until she took in his appearance; he was still in his clothes from last night, his skin was waxy and his hair was doing the thing it did then he ran his hair through it too many times, only extremely.

“Where the Hell were you?!”

Katara advanced on him with a speed that surprised her. Anger seemed to have bubbled up out of nowhere the moment she’d seen he was alright, and it wasn’t stopping.

“I called Haru! I called Star! I called Gin!”

She was right in front of him now but Zuko hadn’t moved an inch. He just let himself be pushed up against the wood of the door, face set impassively. Katara was tired and very confused and she’d woken up in a house where everything was different when she needed it not to be, so it was no real shock when the tears started falling, to her at least.

“Nobody knew where you were! I was worried – I thought – I thought something had happened!  And – and you weren’t answering your phone and I needed you to be here!”

The end of Katara’s statement hung between them like smoke. Zuko didn’t seem able to handle the silence broken only by heaving breaths.

“I just went out for a while and lost track of time.”

His voice sounded level but it was contrived, Katara caught his shake on the word ‘lost’.

“ _Where?_ Where did you go?!”

“Out! Why does it matter?!”

“Because NOBODY KNEW WHER– ”

“ – I have about three friends Katara! Just because they were all absent or unconscious at the time does not mean you have to go through all this – shit!”

“I. Was. Worried.”

“WHY?!”

“Because you’ve been acting weird for weeks! And then you up and disappear in the middle of the night! What am I – ”

“It wasn’t the middle of the night.”

Katara studied him incredulously for a second.

“It was just very early in the morning.”

“ARGH! Technicalities! It still doesn’t explain why didn’t you come home last night!”

“I **did**.”

“What?!”

“I. Did.”

Zuko looked at her then and Katara felt it, felt all the horrible pieces sliding into place.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

“You probably didn’t notice, right?”

Zuko kept his eyes on Katara’s, watched them fill up with hurt and humiliation. He wanted to relent, he really did, it wasn’t her he was angry at, but what he was angry at wasn’t here and every time he thought about it he just saw Haru’s smile on the bench that day –

_Well_ I _like him._

“T-that, that was – ”

Katara’s face was flushed, and her breathing was dangerously close to sobbing again. Agni this was mean. This was so, so mean.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m back now, so you can call off the search or whatever”

He tried to slide past her, but Katara latched her arm onto the doorframe, locking him in.

“W-whatever you heard – I’m sorry.”

The way she looked up at him, he really did believe her.

“But you don’t get to pull a disappearing act just because you’re embarrassed!”

_Embarrassed?!_

“That’s what you think that was?!”

To be fair, his spreading blush wasn’t doing wonders to convince her otherwise.

“That’s what it fucking looks like!”

“AARGH!”

He couldn’t, he had done so well, he only had to hold onto it until September, he’d deferred, he’d avoided, he’d been doing _so well_.

“Why was it then, huh?!”

“HE HAS NO RIGHT TO GET TO TOUCH YOU!”

Katara’s head of steam seemed to evaporate in seconds.

Her voice got dangerously quiet.

“No _right_?”

“NO! JET IS AN ASSHOLE! AN ASSHOLE!”

“And where do you get off deciding that for me?!”

“I’M NOT! I JUST – !”

“ – Even if he is, sex is just sex Zuko, it doesn’t mean anything!”

“YES IT DOES!”

Katara took in Zuko’s pink cheeks and shaking hands. No way, he wasn’t, he couldn’t be –

“Zuko are you a v – ”

 “JET’S DATING HARU!”

“Wha – ?”

“He’s messing Haru around and now he’s messing you around and he – he – he...”

Katara felt feverish and strange as the revelation washed over her, she couldn’t even process it, it was just too...

“I chose him.”

“What?”

“I chose him, because I wanted someone unconnected – because I didn’t want to hurt anyone – I’ve, I’ve ruined _everything_...”

Katara felt her knees give out from underneath her as she slumped into a kneel. Zuko quickly followed suit.

“N-no – ”

“I – I thought Haru sounded weird on the phone, I just supposed it was a hangover, no, no, no, no...”

“He probably doesn’t even – ”

“Star knew. At least, she knew we left together and – Haru! I’ve got to see him! I’ve got to tell him I’m sorry!”

Katara frantically tried to reach for the door.

“Katara – Katara!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m – I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry...”

Whether it was to stop her from hurting herself or meant as a gesture of comfort she didn’t know, but all at once Zuko’s arms were wrapped around her.

It was awkwardly manoeuvred and just a little bit uncomfortable, as her arms were now pinned to her sides. But Zuko was warm and pliant pressed against her and after a moment of getting accustomed, he reached up and started to stroke her hair gently.

“This wasn’t in anyway your fault.”

“...yes it was...”

Her voice was muffled by his shoulder.

“No it wasn’t! You don’t have anything to be sorry for!”

Except she did.

And if Zuko kept holding her like this, she was pretty sure she would have something else to be sorry for too.

“I just – I just wanted to – ”

“You, you don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“Zuko, just let me for a second OK?!”

“...alright.”

“I was using Jet – I – I thought if I could just get it out of my system, then everything would go back to normal but it was wrong – I was wrong – ”

Katara broke apart from the embrace to look at him properly. Zuko looked about as tired as she felt, he was still flushed, whether it was residual from his yelling or renewed under her scrutiny – it was impossible to tell. And his eyes were bright, they were so, so bright and confused and Katara knew, she knew that this was the last look she was going to get before she ruined everything, before she finished her fatal sentence.

“It didn’t work because he wasn’t you. I like you, Zuko.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
> (i'm so sorry this took so long)

For a minute, none of it was real.

Zuko sat very, very still.

If he moved, somehow, he felt the dam would break or the dream rupture or –

Katara was still looking at him.

Alright. OK. OK. OK. OK.

That would be because she was waiting for him to respond.

“Y-you...”

His voice sounded so thready, so weak, even in the abject silence of the hallway. Because, because, because – she couldn’t mean it, she couldn’t mean _that_. It was impossible. It. Was. Impossible. He’d misheard, she’d misspoken, it wasn’t real, it _wasn’t_ –

“You – **you** are very tired and hungover and upset...”

He said it with authority, with confidence because this was the truth, it was the only way it could possibly be.

“Zuko – ”

Zuko stood up as quickly as he could without touching Katara unnecessarily; he needed to remove himself from this situation – from this _misunderstanding_ of his rather. HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA – so embarrassing.

“Haru – Haru’ll be OK, I’ll go talk to him now and it’ll all be fine – ”

“Zuko!”

Zuko turned back to her. He hadn’t had any rest in about 30 hours, anything inherent in him that was supposed to keep the panic off his face was failing to implement. He knew his eyes were wide and pleading, he could fucking feel it – he could see Katara’s expression morphing in response to it – fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“K-Katara – you can’t mean that...”

“ – Do not undermine what I tell you about my own damn feelings.”

Katara was kneeling where he’d left her, but she seemed more solid now somehow, hands fisted in the fabric of her jeans, face set, eyes focused.

Focused on him.

Right. Him.

It was his turn now.

But, but, but – this wasn’t part of the plan or, or the schematic or whatever. This, this was – she wasn’t supposed to – not that he had any room to – but – but

“I see. That’s how it is then. OK.”

What? No, What?!

Her voice was still solid but it was formal and sad and Katara was standing up now, Katara wasn’t looking at him anymore, Katara’s head was dipped a little and she was heading up the stairs –

“No! Wait!”

Moving in what could only be described as a scramble, Zuko reached out towards Katara catching he shoulder, before thinking better of it and quickly letting go again. But she still faced the stairs vigilantly, refusing to turn around.

“I... I – _We_ , we – ”

Katara’s shoulders tensed incrementally.

Zuko let out a sigh. There was no way that this wasn’t going to sound awful.

“Hakoda and Mom can’t find out.”

Katara turned to face him with a expression of what might have been incredulity, or maybe shock, Zuko certainly wasn’t in the best head to differentiate.

“W-well, ah – we – we shouldn’t say anything for now – or, or not while we’re all in the same house – um – I mean, it may...”

Zuko failed to ramble his sentence to a close; Katara’s lips were suddenly very much in the way.

* * *

 

“Do you haaaaaave, hmmm, any fives?”

“Go fish.”

Aang picked up a card from the stack on the bed sheet between his folded legs and Toph’s outstretched ones. Toph wrinkled her nose at the sound of the IV rattling.

“It’s not... hurting you, is it?”

“Huh?”

“The water gun thing they’ve stuck in your hand.”

Because of or maybe in spite of her inability to see, Toph always seemed astute to people’s feelings, at least more so than the average person. This included, but was not limited to, levels of comfort. And as much as Aang admired this quality in her, he didn’t like to see her worried over him.

“Oh no! The drip is fine, I’m just a little nauseous from the chemo – but it’ll pass soon.”

“It better.”

Toph ran her fingers over her cards again.

Aang watched her with an expression he knew she’d chastise him for if he gave it away in his voice. She was so lovely.

_The Solstice Summit Approaches! What schemes does Ozai have in store! What secrets have the Fire Nation been hiding! Find out all this and more with Cheng Xiao NEXT on EK1 News!_

“Urgh... Not this cow-pig crap again! Get them to switch the channel Twinkletoes!”

Aang winced as an orderly glared at Toph from across the ward, and being careful to lower his voice –

“I don’t like it either – but old man Po does – and well – I think it helps him take his mind off things...”

Growling a little in acquiescence, Toph fidgeted into a more comfortable position before checking her deck again.

_But Ozai won’t be going it alone! Oh no – along with an army of consuls and politicians, as well as a security detail supposedly peppered with members of the legendary Yu Dao, our exclusive source here at EK1 has informed us that it will be a family vacation as well as a grab for power. AWWWW..._

“Any time Toph.”

“Hey, that’s Earth Rumble champion to you – I’ll take my sweet time.”

Aang grinned and flicked his eyes up to the TV.

_Yes! That’s right – none other than the Fire Lord’s own daughter – The Fire Princess if we’re being “correct” here – wouldn’t want to offend our new overlords now – am I right?!_

“Alright Twinkles – ”

_– EK1’s exclusive Fire Nation insider has provided us with insight into the Royal Family – images which have NEVER BEFORE BEEN BROADCAST ON ANY EARTH KINGDOM NETWORK –_

“Do you haaaave...”

_What you are seeing here is the Fire Lord’s official family portrait – At perhaps five years out of date this is the most recent –_

Aang’s eyes went wide, the excitable voice of the reporter faded to white noise, as did Toph’s bargain – because there, on the screen, without a doubt was a scarless, dour faced little Zuko, sitting at the feet of Ursa... and the Fire Lord.

* * *

 

Hakoda stretched up until he felt his spine click –

2:07 – Seeing as he’d fallen asleep as soon as they got off the ferry, they must have been about half-way back by now.

“Good rest?”

Ursa was smiling at him from the driver’s seat. The loosely coiled bun at the nape of her neck and the warm spring sunlight and her soft white sweater all seemed to be making her glow with beauty. Not that radiance was anything unusual for Ursa. He returned her grin.

“I’m sorry for being such poor company, want to switch over soon?”

“No thanks, I’m in a bit of a driving mood today, I’ve missed it a little.”

The car smelt of tea and her perfume, it was peaceful, sleepy even.

“Although – my phone did go off a little while ago, would you mind checking? I doubt it’s the kids – but...”

Reaching into Ursa’s purse in the foot well, Hakoda swiped across the phone’s screen.

“It was Iroh – he rang a couple of times actually, I’ll call him back.”

Ursa nodded, her eyes focused on the road.

 The phone barely rang once before Iroh picked up, Hakoda would have said he sounded grave, but it could just have easily been the reception.

“Ursa?”

“Ah – Hi Iroh, it’s Hakoda, she’s driving – is there something I should pass on?”

A moment of silence so alien to conversation with Iroh passed – and Hakoda heard paper rustling in the background for a moment.

“Would you mind terribly putting her on? I’ll only be a moment – it’s a financial matter – a little embarrassing you see – ”

“Oh – of course.”

Hakoda tapped Ursa on the shoulder, shrugging at her look of confusion before helping her lodge the phone into place between her crooked ear and shoulder.

“Iroh? Hi, what’s – ”

Ursa’s eyes flashed for a moment and the colour seemed to drain right out of her face.

Hakoda had a sneaking suspicion that whatever severity of potential trouble the tea shop was in, it shouldn’t have caused Ursa to look as frightened as she did.

* * *

 

Zuko shifted slightly against Katara’s back. The queen was not designed for two people, but in that moment he honestly could not have cared less. The arm he had wrapped around Katara’s waist was starting to go numb – and her hair would occasionally come a little too close to being inhaled by him – and this was the purest, most honest, real feeling of contentment he had ever experienced. He could feel the warmth of Katara’s skin through her clothed back against his bare chest, and everywhere in the line where their bodies touched, her breathing was deep but quiet, she smelt like fabric softener.

The sun was bright outside the window, and Zuko knew that before it went down Ursa and Hakoda would be back home – but even that couldn’t take this away from him. He made a conservative effort to preserve it in his mind like amber, to trap this moment, peaceful and perfect, to be revisited again and again.

After half-walking half-fumbling their way up the stairs – the pair of them had somehow ended up in his bed, making out like they were in ninth grade at an un-chaperoned birthday party (not that Zuko had ever done that – but hey, he knew people). At some point in the proceedings, perhaps instigated by Zuko’s accidental blacking-out-for-moments-at-a-time, they had decided to nap. Zuko rescinded all prior negative comments he had made on the practice, naps were amazing. Even if he had only managed about 20 minutes before waking again, it didn’t matter, he felt rejuvenated, balanced, and perfectly happy to ruminate over the electric wet slide of Katara’s lips over his, on how soft her lips and face and eyes and hair were and how she wanted him too. How it was mutual. And even if that was only a physical thing, only touching, Zuko didn’t care, because they were sharing it, and it was real. He lay there in his barren room mulling these thoughts unhurriedly, it was peaceful, happy. That was until a loud knock at the door scared the shit out of him.

* * *

 

 Haru managed to stuff (another) crushed plastic cup into the trash bag before having to take (another) moment to sit down.

Sure, he’d had hangovers before, but never this bad – never room-spinning bad.

Someone (probably Zuko, but perhaps aided and abetted by Katara) had bandaged up his hands and put him to bed – with a conveniently placed basin and everything! There’d even been a start made on the tidying up – but none of that negated the fact that he’d been woken up by a call from Katara, still a little tipsy, to an empty wreck of a house, and the recollections of the night before were still coming back in flashes – Urgh.

Something bad had happened with Jet – he knew it – he knew, he knew, he knew it. But Haru was in no state to confront reality right now.

It was always a tightrope with him, volatile in a subtle way – he’d never get mad or yell or voice his upset, but rather would simply _forget_  to speak to him for a time or not acknowledge his existence for a while.

He really was a prick.

A handsome, charismatic prick – but still.

Turning his brain to less painful and introspective thoughts, it struck Haru as weird that Zuko hadn’t stayed – and Katara had said something similar, which implied he wasn’t at home – so... where exactly could he have gone? The possibility of Zuko going back to a girl’s house sparked briefly in Haru’s mind, before he remembered who exactly he was dealing with and shook of the idea as ridiculous. Zuko was probably just passed out in a ditch somewhere – and the image that thought conjured up was far less amusing and more distressing than Haru had anticipated.  He hadn’t heard anything back from Katara, he really should head over and help her look (he _really_ should have just done that in the first place).

Haru stuffed the remaining coffee table detritus into the trash bag and ran upstairs to get his jacket and shoes. It may have been early spring but the leftover chill of winter was still clinging onto life, Haru felt the bite of the breeze as he stepped out the door. What was it about hangovers that made you sweat so much? Haru grumbled to himself, the sun, still bright in the afternoon, was playing havoc with his headache. Zuko better not have hurt himself. He wouldn’t have gotten himself into any sort of trouble would he? Sure, it was obliquely out of character – but so was him vanishing without telling anyone – Haru plodded across the Kuruk’s lawn – Then again who was there to tell? He was either passed out or blind drunk at the time and Katara... Haru knocked soundly – Katara... had left early? There was a sound of hurried footsteps and shuffling from behind the door and Haru let that thought wither, in favour of focusing on not vomiting into the shrubbery. There were voices coming from inside and although muffled by the door, Haru could tell that they were purposefully hushed, he could only hear the buzz of male and female voices and for a second, for a reason he couldn’t place, he felt panicked – then the door swung open.

 “Haru!”

Katara was wrapped up in her dressing gown, her voice coming out just a shade too chipper to be genuine, and he could see why if Zu-

“Zuko?!”

There he was, standing just behind Katara in the doorframe, looking ragged and tired but glowing? So he had come home then? Was that – was he blushing?

“Ah – uh – yes?”

“Katara called this morning and said you were gone”

“I – I was but, but I’m back now.”

“Well I was just coming over to help look for you... so...”

There was something amiss with this picture, Haru knew, he could see the pieces sliding around in front of him but not quite fitting. They both looked dishevelled, Katara’s hair was fuzzy, but not it’s natural fuzziness, more like it had been mussed around by something, and Zuko’s was as tufty as he’d ever seen it. And since when did Katara where sleepwear past midday? Both of them were flushed and vaguely breathy when they’d answered the door like they’d just ran down the stairs and –

Zuko’s shirt – the same one he had worn last night – was on backwards.

Haru felt his eyes widening before he could stop them – and the tiny shocked gasp, as he would state later, was 100% involuntary. The atmosphere around them seemed to freeze. Zuko and Katara’s coquettish blushes slipped off their faces in a second and when Katara spoke again it was in a very small, tense voice.

“Haru, please, just – just come inside for a second – ”

Haru nodded his acquiescence hastily and stepped across the threshold, which felt rather too much like stepping into a Hogdillo den than he was comfortable with.

“You – you two?”

Was all Haru managed. Katara looked at her slippers. Zuko looked almost affronted.

“How did you?!”

“Your shirt’s on backwards”

Katara issued quietly, she had clearly seen the way Haru’s eyes had been darting. Zuko stared down furiously at the offending item, as if he could right it through telekinesis, and then worriedly back to Katara – like he was suddenly remembering how small she'd sounded.

“I mean, it’s fine – we, we could all see it coming from a mile off – ”

“We?”

Zuko still seemed edgy, as if these mysterious others were enemies he had to face. Haru tried to put on his most reassuring, calming tone.

“Yeah, me and Toph and Aang after we pointed it out to him”

“You – !”

“Haru...”

He looked over to Katara who was finally looking up from the floor and – oh no.

“Haru, please, please don’t tell anyone...”

Katara’s voice was still tiny but quivering, the way it did right before someone burst into tears and the way she was looking at him, full of sorrow and upset, that felt like a real impending possibility. Zuko’s eyes went very wide and he looked as disturbed as Haru felt.

“Katara – it’s no big deal – people won’t – ”

“Please! Please Haru just promise you won’t...”

Katara had never talked to him like this before, hell, she had never _looked_ at him like this before, like she was pleading, like she was honestly afraid of what he would do. Haru had been secretly rooting for these two for months, hoping they’d work past their angst to some kind of mutual (see smoochy) understanding, but he’d never really thought about what came after. About the consequences of it all.  And they were all suddenly rushing to the forefront of his mind – a myriad of unanswerable questions, like – what did this mean for Ursa and Hakoda? What would happen if this didn’t work out? What would happen if it did? What was the best possible outcome of this scenario? Was there even a ‘best’ to be had in this situation?

“It’s OK, I promise to keep it a secret from now on”

Sure he’d never thought about any of these things before, but optional summer-class attending Katara and absolutely zero chill Zuko, definitely had.

Katara breathed out hard, as if she’d been holding her breath in wait for those magic words, and it took everything in Zuko’s power to resist the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders, to hold her hand or just... Just something! Something that would reassure her.

“I’ll head home then – the cleaning up won’t finish itself...”

Haru laughed easily, his comforting tone dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared, and Zuko suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“Do you? We should help – I mean – ”

Zuko fumbled, he should have probably offered to do that from the get-go – but the fact was he’d rather spend the rest of the day curled up in bed with Katara that clean up whatever was left of the party. Agni – he’d rather spend the rest of the day curled up in bed with Katara than do just about anything else.

Mercifully, Haru seemed to realise this.

“Nah – I’m almost done anyway, plus you two look like you’ve got a lot to – um – _talk_ about.”  

Haru grinned, as much as Haru _could_ grin anyway, leaving Katara and Zuko dumbstruck in the doorway.

“We’ve created a monster.”

Katara whispered to him. Zuko could only nod back.

* * *

 

Ursa had spent the remainder of the drive back readying herself to tell Zuko.

She would just do it, quickly, like anything horrible she just had to get it over with.

She had to. She had to. She had to.

Zuko needed to know, he did, even if it would affect him negatively, even if just the promise of this happening had been hurting him for weeks prior...

She had to.

It was dark by the time the car rolled up to the house. The curtains of the living room were closed but the light from inside and the promise of warmth that came with it, shone out regardless. This was home. A real home. Not a safehouse or a hideout or a cramped apartment. A home. Their home.

Hakoda was already heaving their suitcases out of the trunk, and Ursa knew her revelry was over, she just had to maintain her stance. Zuko had to know.

But upon entering the doorway, and seeing Katara with her feet curled under her on the squashy armchair, and Zuko dozing on the sofa – stretched out, hearing Hakoda moving around upstairs, undoubtedly _not_ unpacking his things and smelling what was probably a delicious dinner cooking in the oven, Ursa felt her nerve start to crumble.

“Good trip?”

Katara asked sunnily.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you've run out of excuses for long gaps between updates - I'm on Summer break now, so there should be at least on more update before September - if not two, for now enjoy this chapter! Lots of drama and a glimpse of some new faces!

The sky was slowly darkening from orange to purple, the lack of cloud cover allowing a few stars to emerge before the sun had even fully set. Azula watched as the lights of the archipelago disappeared from view and sighed. It wasn’t as if she was unused to air travel, but it would not have been her first choice; the jet was more convenient and faster, of course, but it failed to offer the same level of control that sea travel did. And though woe betide any staff member that ushered the princess back to her seat, the captain’s suggestion that she should ‘take this time to sit back and relax’ was heavy in the recycled air. Ty Lee’s incessant chirping from across the aisle wasn't doing Azula's mood any favours either.

“Wow! The ocean is so beautiful at sunset, right Mai?”

(Azula deeply suspected that question may have been aimed at her as well had she not already yelled at Ty Lee twice before about distracting her from her thoughts)

“Well it’s certainly... orange.”

“Right?! And just think about how high up we are! We’re the only people in the world with this exact view! Doesn’t that make you feel special?”

“Mostly it makes me feel nauseous. Remind me again why we had to go ahead by air?”

“Do you want a hard candy? I’ve heard they help – I’m sure I had one in here somewhere...”

Azula almost winced at the sound of Ty Lee’s purse contents hitting the table; she did not want to turn around for that tableau, let alone respond to Mai’s moaning. Honestly, she had promised father that they were trustworthy, capable, her elite team – and they were – though you wouldn’t know it from the airsick mope and attention deficit darling they were showing themselves up to be. It was no matter of course, father trusted her and security knew better than to leak anything detrimental, but she still didn’t like them thinking it.

Azula stood and stretched her arms out until they clicked satisfactorily.

“’Zula – do you want one as well?”

The proffered pink candy sat in Ty Lee’s palm, small and anti-climactic considering all the rummaging it had required to find.

“I’m alright; I think I’ll consult with the captain for a spell.”

One corner of Mai’s mouth unfurled into a little half-grin, she was more than aware of the entertainment that Azula’s consultations could provide. Ty Lee likely knew as well, but her sunny disposition rarely let her see the worst in people, so she grinned broadly and popped the candy into her own mouth.

“Have fun!”

She would. Captain Jee was a grizzled veteran, just the type that needed reminding exactly where he stood.

* * *

 

Later in the evening, when Hakoda and Ursa had opted to stay up and finish a movie they were all half-watching, Katara was in her room packing her books for the next day when she heard the door creak a little – Zuko – standing in her doorway looking sheepish. Right, knocking was conspicuous, but it felt nice he hadn’t just strode in – not that Zuko seemed like the striding type –

“Can I come in?” He mouthed carefully.

The sound of the TV and the rumble of talking downstairs was still loud. Katara nodded quickly, suddenly feeling a little dumb for just staring out blankly, she couldn’t help it, it had been a long day. And, now that she’d, well, it was only spooning and macking on really, but so many more details about Zuko were filling up her gaps previously generic flights of fantasy. All of this actual information was making it difficult to concentrate on things, like what Zuko was currently saying or doing, right, right, tune in Katara.

Zuko closed the door lightly behind him, looking unsure for a moment before Katara patted a space at the foot of the bed next to where she was sat, in confirmation. Misjudging his landing a little, Zuko ended up with his thigh squashed flush to Katara’s as he sat down, causing both of them to freeze for a moment, though neither party made a move to well, move. After a few second of fuzzy and not entirely uncomfortable silence, Zuko turned to face Katara, blushing and extremely serious.

“...I – don’t think they noticed anything.”

His voice was totally earnest, pitched low so the odd sound tended to catch and – and – and it was so cute Katara had to bite down on her laughing, which earned her a strange look.

“What?”

“Are we always going to have little ‘debriefings’ like this?”

He managed to look affronted and relieved at the same time, either way his shoulders seemed to lose their formal set a little.

“ – I – Sorry – that was really lame, right?”

“Well, yes, but we are keeping a secret, I understand why you’re cautious.”

“I- I’m just not sure what to do exactly”

“Me neither – this is a first for me too – ”

That got her a little chuckle.

“I feel like this level of subterfuge would be a first for most people.”

“True, true – and you’re right to be careful – plus girls love military procedure, very romantic.”

Katara felt herself smiling a little and Zuko mirrored her.

“That’s – ah – not the only reason I came in – ”

Zuko balled and unballed his hands a few times, before he spoke again, suddenly intensely interested in the comforter. Katara threw him a bone but not before watching him struggle for a little while for her own enjoyment.

“Really?”

She asked in what she hoped was playful manner, bumping his shoulder with his. Pink was creeping into the back of Zuko’s neck and into his ears, and Katara understood, she really did. Ironically the only thing preventing her complete embarrassment was Zuko’s chronic foot-in-mouth, it was like a reassuring beacon in the dark.

“Yes – um – well, I, I thought I should tell you goodnight and – ”

Zuko turned to look directly at her now, his eyes clear, though he proceeded to open and close his mouth a few times in lieu of actually saying anything, before Katara put her hand on his to stop him.

“Zuko?”

Said boy startled a little at the contact, before giving her his full attention again. His eyes were so, so bright and his breaths were a little heavy and when he spoke it was hot in the space between them.

“Yes?”

Katara felt her previous sense of superiority, of seniority, vanish like smoke – fuck Zuko was pretty.

“Can – can I kiss you?”

“Ye-yes! Of course!”

She felt her hand being squeezed gently; it felt like encouragement. Katara closed the gap between them, just feeling his lips against hers for a moment, increasing the pressure just a little before pulling back entirely. Zuko’s motions followed hers seemingly unconsciously, his eyes still closed, forehead resting against hers, Katara pecked him again just for good measure –

“I just wanted to check, you know? I feel like I should have done that the first time too.”

Her words were quieter now, only audible in the small space between them. Zuko slumped down a tad to rest his head in the crook of her shoulder, he seemed to make an affirmative or maybe just pleased noise in his throat, Katara took this as a cue to continue.

“You just – well you aren’t someone who seems to likes other people touching them – or at least you don’t seem to do a lot of casual touching – ”

There was a mumble into her neck.

“Mmm?”

Zuko raised his head a little, his face now completely pink and the serious glower back in place.

“I’m – I’m sorry I’m not good at this yet.”

“at – ?”

Zuko flapped the hand not wrapped up in Katara’s between them and seemed to blush even harder – oh.

“I’m just, I’m – I’m not used to a whole lot of physical contact a- a lot of that is tied into the way I was raised but – I – I mean it’s not like this was the first, I mean I only have female friends back home so stuff – stuff happened sometimes – but a long time ago now and I – ”

Katara stroked her thumb against the back of his knuckles and it was enough to make him deflate and slow down a little, but his voice got even quieter.

“I – I’m out of practice and it it’s not like I had a huge amount of practice to begin with... just, I’m sorry if I’m awkward or, or bad or can’t instigate anything – but – but I really want to touch you, to be around you and I don’t know where I’m going with this – I should leave...”

Any attempt to get up was thwarted by Katara taking his spare hand in hers and bringing both sets of knuckles to her lips and whispering into them.

“You will destroy my self-restraint if you keep being so candid.”

 Whatever response Zuko had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

“Besides I’m hardly a connoisseur of the subject, we’ll work it out together, besides, everyone likes different things, has different comfort zones, as for instigating – I guess I’m OK with picking up the slack for a while.”

She pulled him in for a kiss to the lips a final time.

“Goodnight Zuko.”

It took several deep breaths and a moment to decompress before he stood up. Katara walked him the few steps across her room to the door, and as he opened it, the sound of chatter and TV flooded in once again. Zuko stepped out onto the dark landing, parts of his face still illuminated by the light of her room.

“Goodnight Katara.”

It was only when he let go of her hand then did she realised she was still holding it.

* * *

 

Jet was a planner, he was a schemer.  He was always thinking about his next move, always ten steps ahead – so what if those plans didn’t always pan out? The point was that he always had one. Because, because – _Because I’m the leader, I make the plans –_ Know what’s going on, assess the threat, be aware, don’t let your enemy sneak up on you – This was how you survived, how you kept your people safe. And this was what Jet had to tell himself, especially when it didn’t go well, especially when Smellerbee and Longshot weren’t there to tell it to him, especially when his stragegy or decisions or choices or whatever were making him feel so shit.

Sure pursuing Katara was premeditated – sort of – she was plenty cute and always around anyway so why should he even feel bad about it?

...

And – and sure maybe it got away from him a little. It was just supposed to help him infiltrate – to get one over on that – that –

But six beers deep it had seemed like such a good idea to keep going and keep going and – hey, if he stuck round till morning the look on that asshole’s face would be enough petty revenge to last him for weeks. Except he hadn’t stayed till morning. He’d bolted as soon as it was socially acceptable, and herein laid the issue. Jet’s plans had a tendency to run away with themselves, sure, but never had he felt so definitely and immediately **wrong** about it. Well not _it_ exactly, Katara was fun and responsive and gave as good as she got – but once it was over and he watched her afterglow recede back into a veil of forced calm, watched her look at once panicked and resigned – only then did Jet think to think _was that her first time?_ And that question only raised more and more condemning ones, and the music from next door wasn’t playing anymore.

Haru.

Fuck. Haru.

And Katara’s room had all this _stuff_ in it. Family stuff like postcards and vacation photos and little ornaments, and neither of them had said anything in a really long time. Katara was forcibly steadying her breaths, he could hear it, but her face in the dark gave nothing away. She really was pretty. Maybe if he was just an average Li, he could have just told her that, or they could have just flirted whenever they happened to pass each other, or he could have passively nursed a little crush on her from a safe distance. But no. Not Jet. He had to take it to the logical extreme. What the fuck was he thinking?

Monday rolled around and Jet was too embroiled in muggy, confusing thoughts to consider the impetus for all of these poorly planned plans, that was until he was sat down in the stool next to him.

 Zuko.

Fuck Zuko.

Did he know? Would it even matter if he did?

He wasn’t giving anything away. Just as straight-backed and on-edge as usual, if not a little more so. His eyes were focused on the whiteboard dead ahead, his jaw continuously clenching and unclenching, and whilst this didn’t have to mean anything, the hopeful little goblin in Jet’s head was trying to convince him that it did. It was probably a good idea to drop a casual _Hello_ to test the waters properly – but honestly, Jet was struggling to find the energy, his scummy, repentant feelings bogging him down. Not for Zuko, he didn’t owe him shit, but more for the nine or so unopened texts from Haru that made his stomach twist every time he checked his phone and saw the notification.

“Morning”

He didn’t react as much as Jet wanted him to, staying sturdy and hard-shouldered and po-faced and fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him.

“Morning.”

Jet was uncharacteristically quiet this morning. Which was probably for the best, Zuko would have taken just about any irritating statement out of his mouth as just motivation to punch him into next week. Maybe even dickheads got over-tired from doing assignments the night before. Or maybe, hopefully, he was stewing in the third day of his hangover. The thought that something else had transpired between him and Haru flashed through Zuko’s mind, but dwelling on that made him feel a little sick, so he dwelt on his notes instead.

Zuko honestly thought he was going to get through the day without any kind of confrontation.

That was until he felt Jet’s phone buzz on the table next to his elbow and glanced to see Haru’s name flash up along with the preview of a grovelling and apologetic message – and he couldn’t wind himself in anymore.

“You’re really a piece of shit you know that right?”

He kept his volume low, but he could have been louder, class was winding down, with students discussing the questions amongst themselves, their chatter swallowed up his words. But Jet, seizing in place for a moment was all Zuko needed to know he’d heard.

“So you know then?”

“Yes I know.”

“Tsk. Whatever happened to not kissing and telling?”

“Same thing that happened to staying faithful to your boyfriend apparently.”

Jet’s eyes flew to his in shock for a second before he checked himself. Oh. He hadn’t known he knew.

“ _Boyfriend,_ that’s cute. Haru and I aren’t exclusive, he’s knows that as well as I do.”

“So that makes sleeping with his childhood friend perfectly acceptable then?”

Jet laughed, and horrible gasping thing.

“Are we finally getting to what this is actually about? Defending little sister’s honour?”

Zuko felt his mouth dry up and when his words did come they were too garbled and quick.

“What Katara does with her own body is her business.”

“Seems like you really want to be your business though, don’t you, big bro?”

Zuko’s stomach churned. He felt sick. He didn’t want to be talking about Katara like this, to be talking about any of this and he was going to let something slip, he knew it, and to this shitheap of all people.

Jet’s words became a lot quieter as he leaned in closer to Zuko’s ear.

“I’m shocked actually, that a half-faced fire nation fuck can stand to be in the same house as her without taking advantage. The way history tells it, you people can’t help but rape every vulnerable woman in your path.”

All Zuko heard was the rushing of blood in his ears. He couldn’t even feel it the first few times his fist landed in Jet’s face, and stomach, and neck.

Even when the ache started to seep into his knuckles, he didn’t stop; he wouldn’t stop until he had gotten that stupid grin off of that bastard’s face. Something, somewhere in his higher processing, told him he’d given Jet exactly what he’d wanted, but Zuko didn’t care, Jet was still managing to laugh somehow through mouthfuls of blood and he just wanted him to shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up

* * *

 

Sitting outside the principal’s office and allowing the chair to take most of his slumped weight, feeling heavy with the promise of “ _Many, many detentions... We take assaults on our students very seriously Mr. Li – ”_ Zuko’s hands and face and ribs were throbbing from where Jet had eventually fought back, and he could dimly hear him being yelled at too through the door behind him – and – and

Zuko couldn’t quite believe how stupid that had been and yet he couldn’t find the will to regret it – it was if for a moment he’d tapped back into his 13-year old self, when everything was still so fresh and raw and overwhelming and – Agni fuck it – everyone was going to find out about this. Haru and Katara – shit – how was it going to look to Katara that he’d beaten up the last guy she’d slept with? What kind of white knight fuckboy would he look like?

The reception door buzzed open and the soft footfalls that followed made Zuko break out in a sweat.

“Ursa Li – here to pick up Zuko.”

“Yes, Ms. Li, just sign the log book here – ”

Zuko tried very hard to vanish into the wall. Maybe if he was quiet enough, mom would just slink right by –

“We’re leaving – get up.”

She sounded perfectly level and void of any inflection, which meant he was dead, he was so dead.

Zuko did as he was told and followed Ursa outside in silence.

“Are we getting the bus back? Or?”

“I have a taxi waiting.”

She indicated to a black estate and proceeded to slide into the front seat and give the driver their address. Other than that not a word was spoken for the whole ride.

Zuko caught his reflection in the rear view mirror, his normal eye was starting to purple – it would be swollen shut by tomorrow knowing his luck, the blood that had been dripping from his nose and busted lip was dried and caked and itchy. His lip was really starting to smart as well, then the errant thought that that make kissing a little difficult, if kissing was even still on the table after this. Fuck.

The car pulled up to the Kuruk household, and a (mercifully) empty driveway. Zuko waited for Ursa to say something as the front door shut behind them, but she just planted her keys on the counter and continued on upstairs. She had almost gotten to the top before it registered with Zuko that she wasn’t going to say anything.

“Mom?”

Ursa paused and turned around to look at him, her anger now plainly visible on her face.

“Yes Zuko?”

“Aren’t you going to....?”

She sighed deeply.

“What can I say to you on this subject that I haven’t already said, at length, Zuko?”

“I’m – I – I’m sorry I – ”

“I thought you had moved past this?! You can’ treat other people like that Zuko! I don’t care what he said or did you can’t – ”

“  – I know! I know!”

“Especially now, _now_ is the time you choose to draw attention to yourself!”

 Zuko felt his gall rising, and the pause that followed Ursa’s words was thick with it.

“So we’re finally going to talk about this now?! After weeks of denial finally – ”

“There is nothing to talk about Zuko!”

“Yes. There. Is!”

“We are going to keep our heads down for a few days, stay away from the city centre and nothing will happen.”

Ursa’s words were firm, assured. But they weren’t enough. Zuko was long past the age where he could trust his mother’s words over his own instincts.

“What if something does?”

“Zuko!”

“It isn’t a coincidence Mom! What if someone comes for us, or for uncle?”

“Stop it.”

“We need a contingency – we need a plan – ”

“Zuko, I just had to leave work to pick you up for fighting – I refuse to be lectured by you on this.”

“Mom, please!”

Ursa continued up the stairs.

“This conversation is finished Zuko.”

“Mom!”

“Finished!”

Zuko stood shell shocked at the bottom of the stairs for a while – he couldn’t say how long – but the next thing he knew was the front door opening and Katara’s cheery “Hi!” followed by “What the hell happened?!”.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorty but a goody - I realised the past three chapters have all happened over the course of like a week, but there will be a time jump over the course the next chapter, as well as a certain satisfying and illuminating conversation...  
> Also Aang, Toph and Haru will all make appearances next chapter! For now strap in for some drama and angst :)

Katara felt like a stone had dropped in her gut at the sight of Zuko by the stairs. He had looked fine by the doorway, but as she came closer, and noticed Ursa’s furiously retreating back, the horrors of the scene became more apparent. Zuko’s good eye was purple and almost swollen shut, the trail from his nose to his top lip was pink from where the caked-on blood had been scraped furiously away and the nose itself was horribly bruised. His lip was split; swollen and angry looking, as was the boy himself. In an instant Katara felt the smile slide off of her face,

“What happened?!”

Katara felt her voice burst out, a reaction more than a real question. It looked like a fight, anyone could see that, but with who? Zuko looked up at her from the stoop sheepishly. A girl had interrupted her volleyball practice that morning to ask for coach Pak to help separate two boys having a fight. Looking back on it, she must have been a third year. Who did Zuko even dislike enough to get into a...

Pieces were sliding into horrible place for Katara and it must have shown on her face as Zuko shot up, alarmed, and guided her by the arm through the kitchen and into the laundry room. Closing the door to the rest of the house behind him, Zuko began in a frantic half-whisper,

“I – I can explain.”

“Yes. Please. Do that.”

Katara countered, her tone distinctly less hushed.

“It really, really, isn’t what it looks like...”

What it looked like was her current secret make-out partner had beaten-up her previous secret make-out partner most likely over or about her in some capacity. What it looked like made Katara so unspeakably uncomfortable and angry; it took all she could to level Zuko with a stony expression in lieu of a “go on”.

“I hit Jet and I shouldn’t have and I – well I’m not sorry I did it, but I know – I know I shouldn’t have.”

Katara raised an eyebrow at him.

“It wasn’t like I was – trying to – I don’t know! Lay claim to you or whatever because that’s gross and because you already said that we...”

He trailed off into nothing, sounding almost wistful. Katara tried to stamp down on the blush that she felt building on her cheeks. She was in the right here, and she was right to be pissed off. Cool, Katara, keep it cool. Zuko cleared his throat, thinking better of finishing that thought.

“Ah – um – anyway, he just said some things, some out of line things and – and this has been a long time coming, me and Jet... This has been brewing for a while now, for a long time and everything else is just – ”

Zuko paused for a second, linking and unlinking his fingers like he was stuck searching for the right words. Katara felt like an ice cube had dropped down the back of her shirt.

“– just coincidental.”

He finished weakly, in a rush of breath.

But the damage was already done. Katara felt a fresh wave of fury wash over her, far more potent that before. She tried very hard to keep her voice level.

“You really don’t sound so sure about that Zuko, would you care to elaborate on that thought?”

Zuko had gone pale under the realisation of what his words sounded like, or perhaps at the realisation of what he had just let slip. Katara couldn’t tell. She told herself she didn’t care.

“Because it sounds like, and please, please stop me if I’m wrong – ”

Katara couldn’t stop the anger and upset from creeping into her voice now. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

“It sounds like you think that Jet has been out to get you from the start and that _I_ – ”

Katara gestured empathically towards herself. Zuko winced.

“I and all my dealings with Jet were just weapons to use against you in the long run. And – and – ”

Katara’s voice wavered a little. She breathed in hard through her nose and righted herself, but couldn’t seem to shake the wobbling of her words. The back of her throat burned from holding back tears. Zuko was still looking at her intently, saying nothing.

“I just played right into his evil master plan! Like a little kid! Almost like I don’t expect every flirtation to be part of some carefully constructed scheme! Like I – like someone who has faith in people!”

Katara felt herself running out of steam. She felt like she’d been pulled through an emotional wringer. This combined with last week’s whiplash, Katara wondered if she could keep it up, deal with all of these revelations one after the other after the other. Was it always going to be like this? What fresh horrors were waiting for her round the corner? So much had changed in so few days; Katara felt her head spinning a little. She didn’t want to think about this. This thing she had with Zuko, this new, fragile, barely-there thing, it was so good and nice and peaceful, and yet. And yet their interactions were bookended by shit like this, by this drama, and overshadowed by the looming threat of being found out. Katara wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe they were both risking too much. The tears she had tried to hold back were sliding down her face in fat drops. Zuko approached her slowly, carefully. Giving her plenty of time to rebuff his proffered arm, he wrapped it around her shoulders. Katara felt her dread melt a little, just at the warm of his body in the long line it pressed up against her side.

“You know, well I think it’s pretty clear that I’m not Jet’s biggest fan...”

Katara felt herself give a watery little chuckle in spite of herself.

“But I don’t honestly think he would go, I – I don’t think everything he did was planned.”

Zuko tensed a little, like he was working his way up to admitting something unpleasant.

“He did seem to... Like you, as much as a spider snake like that can like anyone anyway.”

Katara was taking deep breaths. Maybe to calm down. Maybe to strengthen her resolve. Resolve for what she wasn’t quite sure. Zuko brought his other arm around her, guiding her into an embrace. He moved his hand over her back in firm, reassuring strokes.

“Is this OK?”

“Hmph.”

Katara let a grumble out in affirmative against his chest where she was pressed.

“Are you OK?”

That was the question wasn’t it? Katara didn’t know. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what was going to happen now. She didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow. She didn’t know what else Zuko was hiding. Katara didn’t know so much it was driving her up the wall. But she knew she liked being held like this. By Zuko. Maybe it was OK, just for a little while. Maybe the questions could wait, the future could wait, the dread could shut up. Maybe, just maybe, she was being too cautious, and things would work themselves out. She bent back a little to look up at him.

“No. But I think I will be.”

Zuko’s hand continued smoothing down her back, easing the tension.

“What you did was stupid”

His movements stuttered a little but continued nonetheless.

“Yes it was.”

“But I forgive you because I am a kindly goddess.”

Zuko chuckled, pulling her in closer and kissing the corner of her forehead.

“Thank you Goddess Katara.”

“Hm-hm. I’m guessing your mom wasn’t too pleased about the fight.”

Zuko heaved a gusty sigh and balanced his chin on the top of her head.

“Among other things...”

“Other things?”

Zuko’s mind was suddenly racing. He could just lie to Katara – say it was because Ursa had to leave work early, or mention his spotted history with getting into these kinds of situations. But Zuko was so sick of lying. That’s all the past six years had seemed to be; lie after lie after lie. He was tired of waking up terrified. Tired of putting up a front. Tired of Ursa’s continued boneheaded refusal to acknowledge the encroaching threat, which was creeping closer and closer everyday; a tigerdillo in the long grass, waiting to strike. Zuko was tired of bearing this alone, he wanted to tell someone, anyone... No, not anyone, he wanted to tell Katara. He didn’t want to deceive her anymore. He wanted the love and support she had offered, but he wanted it with her informed. But then there was always the possibility of rejection. The fear that Katara wouldn’t be able to stomach the months of deceit, the danger that he and Ursa had, however inadvertently, put the whole Kuruk family in. Zuko looked down at the crown of Katara’s head, even more full with guilt than before. He should tell Katara the truth because that was what she deserved. Whether or not that meant they would... No. It didn’t matter. Not telling her now would be too great dishonour on her.

“Katara – um...”

Katara looked up at him, her clear blue eyes still a little red from crying. They gave him the impetus to keep going.

“I have to tell you – ”

The sound of the master bedroom door slamming shut stopped Zuko in his tracks. The footsteps of Ursa travelling down the stairs that followed caused the pair to spring apart, as if shocked. Katara fixed Zuko with an enquiring look.

“Later.”

He mouthed, and swiftly exited through the back door to avoid his mother’s wrath. Katara was left reeling. It was as if she had willed Zuko’s transparency into existence, by deciding she didn’t want to hear it. Whatever he had wanted to tell her it was weighty, she had felt it in the way his arms had tightened around her, almost like he feared she would flutter away like a sparrowkeet. But Katara wasn’t a sparrowkeet. As much as she was anxious to hear what he was going to tell her, she was also full of anticipation. Would this lead to a conversation about his past? His father? Who – or – whatever Azula was? Katara wanted to shake herself. She didn’t know, she had decided she didn’t want to know, and yet she was aching to find out. Ursa walked into the laundry room at that moment, starting a little at the sight of her.

“Katara! Was there laundry that needed sorting? Your father said that he did it last night...”

She looked like she’d been crying. Crap. Katara thought suddenly. She must have looked just the same. They both did each other the courtesy of pretending they didn’t notice.

“Oh, he did! I think... I was just, erm – thinking about cleaning the lint plate in the dryer, you know – it’s one of those things you always forget about until it’s too late!”

Katara tried for a laugh, but it came out a little strangled and nervous. Ursa didn’t seem to notice this though, nor her obvious lie. Her head must have been other places, Katara reasoned.

“About dinner tonight... how do you feel about take-out? For a change? It’s been one of those days...”

Ursa was trying to play it off jovially, but Katara heard an exhaustion in her voice that she had never noticed before. Deflated, worn-out, weighed-down, this was Ursa in a way Katara had never truly seen before. She felt a little pang of guilt.

“Take-out sounds great! There’s uh – menus in the cutlery drawer, if you haven’t picked a place out yet.”

Ursa’s mood seemed to lift a little, at least, her eyes brightened up.

“Thank you Katara.”

She took a couple of short steps towards Katara and cupped a hand around her upper arm. Ursa’s grip was gentle, but Katara didn’t miss the significance of the gesture. Not unlike her son, Ursa tended to be light on physical affection; this was one of only a handful of times that she had touched her. It forced her to look right into Ursa’s eyes, mistier than usual, perhaps, but it could have just been a trick of the light.

“You’re always so helpful.”

There was something left unsaid. Katara could see it on her face. Something raw and sad and regretful. But Katara was in no mood or position to push it, Ursa’s sudden fragility frightened her a little, the woman who had seemed so unflappable to her for so long may not have vanished, but the cracks in the image were widening. Katara smiled as cheerily as she could before carefully removing herself from Ursa’s grip under the proviso of guiding her back into the kitchen.

“Just in the back there?”

“Yeah, second drawer from the top – the um – the noodle shop near the old tin district is good... I’m not totally sure they’re still open though...”

“I’ll find out.”

Katara hurried out and up to her room as quickly as politeness would allow. Chancing a glance back at Ursa through the doorway, she looked smaller somehow. Katara jogged up to her room, collapsing onto the comforter. Things, for better or worse, were changing in their house. The second she felt like she had a grasp on the situation it morphed into something else. Whatever Zuko was going to tell her tonight, Katara prayed it was going help her find her footing, illuminate her understanding, rather than dragging the rug out from under her, again.

* * *

 

In the living room Hakoda had an arm wrapped round Ursa’s shoulders while a nature documentary played out on the TV screen. Ursa’s eyes were directed forwards, but Hakoda could see that they were glassy, unfocused; her mind seemed to be miles away, and he suspected he knew where. Turning the volume down a touch, Hakoda asked softly,

“Do you want to talk about what happened today? With Zuko?”

Ursa shifted a little in her seat, like she was trying to comfortable. After she stilled, she spoke.

“He should know better than fighting with other kids by this point – scratch that, he does know better – and yet!”

Although her voice was quiet and level Hakoda heard the suppressed rage, her whole body had tensed up as well, taught as a pipa string.

“Did anything else happen?”

“Does anything have had to?!”

Hakoda tried to sound placating, loosening the grip of their embrace a little.

“No. But, you just seem very angry with him. Teenagers do these sorts of things all the time, Zuko isn’t a bad kid, he just made a stupid decision...”

Ursa’s frostiness at the dinner table had been uncomfortable even from Hakoda’s seat. And judging by Katara’s surprised expression; it wasn’t only him picking up on it. Zuko had seemed thoroughly miserable, but unusually, not apologetic. Whenever he had upset Ursa in the past, Zuko had always seemed to regret it almost immediately and be as repentant and placating as possible. But at the table he had sat with a stubborn set to his jaw, like he was being forced to swallow something unpleasant, outright ignoring his mother’s jabs. Hakoda could sense something was amiss.

Ursa let out a quiet sigh.

“We had a small argument when we got home. Things, well, things got a little nasty...”

“Hm?”

Hakoda knew Zuko to be a lot of things, and vindictive was not one of them.

“A little – personal...”

Hakoda’s ears pricked up at that. Ursa was always carefully controlled, her words were no exception. Hakoda had learned to decipher her code, words as moderated an innocuous as ‘personal’ usually referred to horrors that Ursa would rather left unspoken. Usually horrors of her past. There was a pause where Ursa seemed to be building herself up to something. Hakoda waited and squeezed her shoulder a little for encouragement.

“Zuko’s father came up...”

“Your ex?!”

“Yeah – briefly, briefly... it was barely even a mention really, but...”

Hakoda wrapped himself tighter around Ursa. They had never exactly agreed to be candid with their pasts, and he only knew bits and pieces about Zuko’s father, but what he did know, wasn’t good.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to”

He reassured.

“I know, I know, I’m fine I just – ”

Ursa pulled away a little to dab her eyes on her sleeve.

“It’s like we can never really get away from him – even though we are physically, technically... the legacy, the shadow, the marks he’s made they’re inescapable... Zuko hates that I want to pretend it never happened... but I just want to live a normal life – I... is that so...”

The nature documentary continued at its lowered volume and Hakoda could hear the drone of the kids talking upstairs, or maybe one of their TVs. He didn’t quite know how to comfort for this. He couldn’t give Ursa a series of potential situations and solutions because there were none. And he couldn’t try and undermine the issue because the issue was Ursa’s trauma, pretending it wasn’t a real problem would only make it worse. So Hakoda held her and made soothing sounds and hoped that that was enough for now. Ursa, meanwhile, sweated over Zuko’s words. It was true, denial was a strong medicine, but so too was fear.

* * *

 

Katara closed Zuko’s door softly behind her. The room’s occupant was sitting in his chair, resting his head on the desk with his eyes closed. The unpractised observer might have said he was asleep, but the shallowness of his breath indicated otherwise. Well that the text he had sent Katara moments ago summoning her in there. She placed a hand on his shoulder and Zuko groaned lightly in acknowledgement. Dinner had been an exhausting affair for everyone involved. Katara had the distinct feeling that she and Hakoda were caught in the middle of the most passive aggressive fight ever witnessed. Weirdly, Zuko hadn’t caved either, this, Katara supposed as she carded a hand through his hair, was the consequence of that resolve.

“You OK?”

“Mmf.”

“You still want to talk?”

Zuko titled his head to the side, his expression shifting from pitiful to hard and serious.

“Zuko?”

“Katara... um, let’s sit on the bed for this, OK?”

The pleasant mood seemed to evaporate a little at the sudden seriousness of his voice.

“Oh, OK.”

Accepting the new gravity of the situation, and Zuko’s hand, Katara allowed herself to be led to the comforter. Zuko brought their clasped hands into his lap and stared at them.

“I want to tell you something – but it’s going to be difficult and – and it might not always make a lot of sense at first but... but I want you to know it doesn’t change anything about um – us, or rather about me – n-not me but my feelings for you – they don’t change and – I’m telling you this because I want you to... you deserve all of the truth and because I trust you – I’m not expecting anything or – or – ”

Katara, scared as she was, squeezed Zuko’s hand in encouragement. He fumbled for words for a moment.

“I trust you too.”

Zuko looked to her for the first time since they started speaking. His smile was earnest, but there was still a panicked look in his eyes.

“I’m going to start – and – and if you need me to stop or you want me to slow down just – ”

Katara nodded; Zuko let out a huge breath.

“Me, uncle and mom, we – we’re not exactly who we say we are...”


End file.
